Fallen, Book 1: Angels, Angels, Everywhere
by The Urban Spaceman
Summary: There's a new angel on the scene. Castiel is suspicious, Dean is pissed off, Sam is cautiously optimistic, and Bobby is driven to distraction when his safe-room is turned into a celestial jail cell. Set during mid season 5.
1. A New Player

_**Fallen**_

_**Book 1: Angels, Angels, Everywhere**_

Chapter 1

_- A New Player -_

Dean Winchester raged against the invisible bonds that held his body immobile as an angry fire burnt across his mind. The anger was mostly aimed inwards, at himself, at his stupidity and impotence. That he had walked into Zachariah's trap was bad enough. Worse, he had dragged Sam and Castiel into it with him. But what really, truly made his anger burn, was that Zachariah had known just how to lure him here. Even the mere idea that the angel knew him well enough to manipulate him made him furious.

It really was such an obvious trap. An evangelic preacher had contacted him several days ago, claiming he'd heard the angels discussing a way of destroying Lucifer once and for all. Unable to pass up an opportunity—any opportunity—to save the world, Dean had taken the bait. Now, that same preacher was standing only a few feet away, a box of matches in his hands, as in front of him a circle of holy fire was burning on the ground. Inside the circle, Castiel stood still, glowering at the man who had tripped the angel trap, and Dean could tell his friend was royally pissed.

Next to Dean, Sam had likewise been rendered immobile. Angels needed no ropes to bind a body, they could do it all with their magical angel mojo. Unfortunately, it gave Dean nothing physical to fight. All he could do was stand there, his body frozen in place, and look at the smug, self-satisfied look on Zach's face. The arrogant son of a bitch had been waiting for this moment for a long time. It wasn't the first time that Dean had been within Zach's grip, but it was the first time he was in this position without an ace up his sleeve. Of the only people who could help him, Sam and Cas were unable to lift a finger—in Sam's case, literally—and Bobby Singer was sitting in his wheelchair five hundred miles away, oblivious to the peril his friends were now in.

Angels. Dean hated them. They claimed to be superior, they lived with holier-than-thou sticks up their collective asses, yet when it came right down to it, they lied and cheated and manipulated humans as expertly as any demon. Zach was the worst of them. Dean was sure it was Zach who had finally broken the fallen angel Anna, torturing her to the extent that she believed the only correct course of action was to travel back to 1978, to kill John and Mary Winchester before their sons could be born. Sam and Dean had followed her back to the past, but it had weakened Castiel to take them with him. The rebellious angel had only just recovered from the exhausting two-way trip, when the preacher had contacted Dean and begged to be protected in exchange for knowledge of the angels' plans.

"Dean Winchester," said Zachariah. He stepped forward, a horrible smile painted on the face of his middle-aged businessman vessel. Dean wished he could wipe that smile off the angel's face, but he knew he wouldn't be given the chance. He'd used the Enochian banishing sigil taught to him by Cas one too many times, and Zach wasn't going to give him the chance to do it again. "Good to see you again. You've given me quite the chase, these past couple of weeks."

"Zachariah," Dean growled, not even bothering to disguise the hatred in his voice. "I was just thinking I was overdue for my regular dose of pretentious asshole, and here you are. I'm surprised your masters extended your leash this far. They must have infinite patience, after all the times you've screwed up."

"Sinner!" the preacher accused, the word coming out as a guttural snarl. He pointed his finger at Dean, dropping the box of matches on the floor. "You would dare speak to a servant of the Lord in such a way! Were you not the true vessel of Michael, you would be smote down where you stand for such blasphemy!"

"Evangelists," said Zachariah, still wearing the smile. But he did not address the preacher, and kept his gaze solely on Dean. "They're a breed apart. So unquestioningly obedient. And apparently they make excellent bait for idiotic mud-monkeys like you and your brother."

"Bite me, you prick," Dean snapped, his anger growing once more. It wasn't just anger now, though. Fear was in there, too. He hated being weak, hated being helpless. It reminded him too much of his time in Hell, when he had been chained by the flesh of his body to a web of eternal pain and torture. "The answer is no. Michael's not getting my body. Ever. So why don't you just go crawling back to your master and tell him to shove his offer up his ass."

Zachariah shook his head, tutting. The smile was gone from his face now, but there was hatred in his eyes. "Dean, Dean. You should have learnt by now that when you fail to show the proper respect, it is those around you who are punished." The angel's head turned and he looked at Sam. Suddenly, Sam cried out, blood pouring from his nose. Dean could see his brother trying to double over in pain, to curl protectively into the foetal position, but Zachariah wouldn't let him. Sam was forced to stand upright, to bleed and endure whatever internal injury was being inflicted on him by Zach.

"Stop it, you son of a bitch," Dean shouted over Sam's agonised cries. "Stop it or so help me God, I'll—"

"You'll what?" Zach demanded, switching his focus once more back to Dean. "You'll glare at me sternly? Oh boy, I think you underestimate how screwed you are. You're mine, now. I'm going to take you back with me and strap you down until Michael's ready to take your pathetic meat-bag body and use it to destroy Lucifer." The angel took a step back, to survey all three of his captives. "Sam... now, Sam I think I will kill myself. Destroying Lucifer's vessel will earn me the praise I deserve for having to wade through the filth of this world just to find you. And Castiel..." Zach said, with a malicious smile for his angelic brother, "you have been a thorn in my side for too long. I only wish I could kill you myself. Unfortunately for you, Raphael has claimed that prize. He really doesn't like you. I'm told he's planning on a few years of agonising torture before he finally allows you to die."

"He already killed me once," Castiel said, without any of Dean's fear or anger in his voice. "What makes him think this time will be any different?"

"When he's done with you this time, there won't be enough of you left for anybody to bring back." Zach turned back to Sam, and raised his hand. "Say farewell to your brother, Dean."

"Zach, wait, no!" Dean shouted. "Please, no. Don't kill him. I'm begging you." Once upon a time, Dean had thought there was nothing in this world that would make him beg. Now, he knew better. He'd found a touch of humility, and he was more than prepared to beg for the life of his brother and his friends.

"I'm done with your pathetic pleading, boy," Zach spat angrily. "Say yes or say no, Sam's life is non-negotiable. Consider this your punishment, Dean, for your constant lack of respect, and for making me chase you all over this planet."

Zach turned to Sam, his hand reaching out towards the taller of the brothers. Sam gave another cry of pain, gasped for air.

"Please Zach, stop it!" Dean cried. Tears of anger and hopelessness spilled over his eyes as he watched the life being choked out of his little brother. "No! Please, no! Sam!"

"Zachariah!"

A new voice rang out high and clear through the warehouse, and Sam's cries of pain stopped. Zach turned on the spot, and Dean looked past him, at the figure standing behind the angel. He hadn't known what to expect, but he certainly hadn't been expecting this. It was a young woman who had spoken, and he shivered at her contradictory visage. She was short and slender, dressed in a forest-green knee-length dress with a yellow cat motif spattered across the green material. The sneakers she wore were white, fading to grey, and he could tell by the sun-kissed colour of her legs that she spent time outdoors. Her brown hair was styled in a pixie cut, and showed lighter brown highlights where it had been partially lightened by the touch of the sun. Eyes the same deep blue colour as cornflowers in bloom looked out from beneath dark, arched eyebrows, and her face was elfin in shape, her features fine and delicate.

That was where the girl-next-door appearance ended. Her cornflower-blue eyes were focused intensely on Zach. On both cheeks she bore symbols which he recognised as Enochian, carved into her flesh and fresh enough to still be bleeding. In her right hand she held a plain-looking longsword, the tip of it hovering just above the ground. Dean liked to think he had become good at recognising angels, and everything about this girl, from the way her eyes were focused to the way she was standing as if she wasn't comfortable in her own body, screamed 'angel' at him. But it always made him feel uneasy when angels did things with blood. It was something he had, since he was young, associated with demons and monsters. That angels also used blood for certain rituals and spells was something he had not expected, and he was still trying to wrap his head around the idea.

He could not see Zach's face, but judging by the way his body stiffened and by the tone of his voice when he next spoke, he knew the elder angel was both angry and surprised.

"Avariel," he hissed. "You cannot be here!"

"And yet here I am," the woman said, quiet confidence in her voice. "I've come to stop you, Zachariah."

Zach laughed, the sound as cold and cruel as the angel it came from. "You think to stop me, grigori? With what? A sword of metal that cannot even pierce the flesh of my vessel?" The woman did not respond. "Perhaps you aren't aware of this, but as we speak, your fellow rebels are being put down like the diseased beasts they are."

"I know," the woman replied. "And their deaths will not be in vain. The angels are occupied. You are alone here. I won't let you do this."

"You are nothing but an insignificant worm," Zach said. Dean risked a glance at Sam, and saw his brother standing upright once more. At least the blood had stopped dripping from his nose. "We should have destroyed all you grigori the last time you rebelled. I am not going to make that mistake again. I don't know how you managed to get here, or why you haven't been struck down yet, but I'm going to crush you beneath my foot, Avariel. Every angel in heaven will know that I not only killed Sam Winchester, but also destroyed utterly the leader of the rebellion." Zach turned to look at Dean once more. "Thank you, Dean. I'd expected you and your idiot brother to fall into my trap, and I'd hoped for Castiel too. But if I'd known that this would lead to the capture and execution of the rebel leader, I would have tried it long ago."

"Are you going to listen to the sound of your own voice all day, Zachariah?" the woman asked. She spread her arms wide. "I'm here. Take your best shot."

Zachariah moved like lightning, his hand shooting out in the direction of the woman. She flew backwards, hitting the far warehouse wall, and had he been able to move, Dean would have jumped at the suddenness of the violence. All he could do was watch as, to his shock and surprise, Zach flew backwards too, with as much force as he had thrown at the woman. As the elder angel was thrown back, Dean felt a momentary lessening of the invisible bindings holding him in place, but before he could act he was stuck once more, like a fly held fast in amber.

Beside him, Sam was looking as confused as Dean felt about this new twist of events. The treacherous preacher looked between Zach and his opponent, both of whom were picking themselves up off the floor where they had fallen, as did Castiel, from behind his circle of fire. A small trickle of blood ran down Zach's forehead, and when the woman stepped closer, Dean saw that her head was bleeding in the same place.

"Is that the best you can manage, Zachariah?" the woman said, ignoring the blood that dripped down from over her eyebrow onto the floor. "You must be getting weak in your old age. No wonder you haven't managed to keep hold of two humans, despite having them in your grasp several times."

Zach let out a wordless snarl of anger, and leapt towards the woman. He struck now not with his telekinesis, but with his fists. Those same fists could punch through a wall of solid concrete, and they sent the woman staggering back. Immediately, Zach staggered backwards too, and a cut appeared across his cheek, in the same place where he had struck the woman on her face. Now, Dean had a good view of both angels. They were side-on in front of him, and he could see the look of surprise and a lack of understanding on Zach's face. It was a satisfying thing to see.

Now, the woman moved. She brought the sword up expertly in a small arch, slashing at Zach's arm. The material of his suit split, and a second later a line of red appeared, running down the angel's arm and onto the floor. Zach looked down at the cut on his arm in confusion. The sword that should not have been able to pierce his flesh had done exactly that.

"Surprise," the woman said, holding up the sword before her to display a coating of blood dripping down its tip.

Confusion was not the only expression on Zach's face, now. There was fear there, and it was genuine. Dean knew how he must be feeling. No weapon except an angel's blade could harm another angel, and the plain longsword wielded by the angel inhabiting the body of the woman was clearly not an angel blade.

Zach struck again; his hand closed into a fist, and the woman grasped at her neck, trying to free herself from something which was trying to crush her throat. Dean wasn't surprised when Zach also grasped at his own throat, and seemed to be having just as much difficulty breathing as the woman, but he was gratified to see it. He'd already figured out that, for some reason, whatever Zach did to the woman also happened to him, but it seemed as if Zach thought he could choke the life out of his opponent before he succumbed to that same deadly force.

The angels were at an impasse. The tighter Zach choked the woman, the harder he was choked in return. Both angels were desperately trying to gasp for air, and Dean took the opportunity to try and free himself. He struggled again against the force which bound him, and felt it flex a little before tightening once more. He got the impression that Zach was splitting his concentration, using some of his focus to hold the Winchesters in place, and the rest to battle his opponent. Perhaps if he and Sam could distract Zach, the other angel would get a chance to strike again.

"Sam!" Dean said. "Fight it!"

Sam nodded and began to struggle against his bonds, too. In the background, the preacher was still watching, in awe and fear, at the two angels who were apparently fighting to the death. Castiel was likewise focused on the battle, and Dean judged him to be perplexed. He always frowned when he was perplexed.

The force binding Dean suddenly tightened, and he looked back to the angels to find them breathing again, gasping the air into their lungs. It seemed Zach had decided choking his victim wouldn't work, so he went back to physical violence, raining down a series of blows on the woman's body, each one of them like hammer-strikes. Seven, eight, nine hits Dean counted, and the woman now bleeding in more places. But so was Zach, every wound on her body duplicated on his.

The woman took a step back and closed her eyes. Black clouds began to form in the air several feet above her head, and they spread out, filling the upper area of the warehouse. A quiet rumble began to grow, and cold, heavy drops of water fell from the clouds. Rain poured indoors, a deluge of it, soaking Dean from head to toe. He narrowed his eyes, squinting at the two figures standing before him. Without warning, a brilliant flash of light whipped down from the clouds, and struck the ground barely a metre away from Zach's feet.

The elder angel sneered. "You missed me."

The woman opened her eyes and gave him a cold smile. "I wasn't aiming for you."

That was when the acrid stench of burnt flesh reached Dean's nose. He turned his head, and saw the smoking black corpse of the preacher. The man's dead body had fallen into Castiel's circle, providing a bridge out of the fire. Dean felt his hope grow as his friend stepped onto the body and walked safely out of the angel's trap, his cold blue eyes fixed now on Zach.

It proved to be enough for Zach. The angel disappeared, teleporting to some other place on Earth, or back to Heaven. Dean didn't know which, nor did he care. He could finally move again, and he rushed to his brother's side, helping him to stand upright. Sam was obviously in pain, his brown eyes troubled, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered. The Winchesters made their way to Castiel, none the worse for his brief period inside the circle of deadly fire. Suddenly, the rain stopped. The black clouds dissipated, and there was a thump and a clatter of metal as the woman collapsed onto the ground.

Together, the three men approached the still, bleeding form of the woman. Sam knelt down to check her pulse, then stood up. "Still alive."

"This a friend of yours, Cas?" Dean asked his angelic companion.

"No," Castiel said, his eyes flickering over the girl's body. "I have never met this angel before."

"What should we do with her?"

"Kill it."

Castiel's voice was cold and emotionless. Once more, it chilled Dean to realise just how ruthless his friend truly could be. Sam, of course, objected immediately. Despite everything he had been through, everything he had done and had done to him, the youngest Winchester still wanted to believe the best in people.

"Cas, she just saved our lives. We can't kill her in cold blood."

"Human blood is not cold," said Castiel. Dean would have smirked, were it not for the severity of their situation. Clichés were usually lost on Cas. "Nor is this angel a 'she'. It is a grigori."

"That's what Zach called her, too," said Sam, ignoring the angel's penultimate sentence. "What's a grigori?"

"They are called 'The Eyes of Heaven', or more simply, 'The Watchers'. God created them to watch humanity. They are stronger and more versatile than cherubs, but lack the strength of full angels." There was a touch of something, perhaps awe, perhaps suspicion, in Castiel's voice. "No grigori is strong enough to defeat a seraphim, like Zachariah. It should not even be here, on Earth, possessing a vessel."

"Well, it is here," said Dean, speaking up for the first time. "And it seems that, for some reason, she is strong enough to defeat a seraphim, or at least chase one away. Which might possibly make her a valuable ally. All the more reason to take her with us, right?"

Castiel turned to face him, stepping into Dean's personal space. The angel was getting better at understanding what 'personal space' meant, but he still invaded it whenever he was trying to get an important point across.

"Dean, the grigori are not to be trusted completely, not even in Heaven. And if this one truly has fallen, then it will be dangerous. Fallen grigori have a tendency to be very, very vicious."

"Then we'll stick her in an angel trap and question her."

"This could be a trap," Cas countered. "She may lead the angels to wherever we take her."

"Cas, we were already in a trap. Zach had us right where he wanted us. He was about to toast Sam. This grigori or whatever... she saved Sam's life. She saved me from becoming Michael's bitch, and saved you from becoming Raphael's new play-thing. I say we at least take her with us and question her, if only to find out how she located us. I didn't think angels were supposed to be able to find us. Or has the Enochian novel you carved onto our rib-cages stopped working?"

Castiel did not object further, but Dean could tell he wasn't happy. He was probably going to sulk and brood until he got his own way, but Dean didn't care. Angels had hounded his footsteps ever since Cas had hauled him out of the Pit. They were worse than the damn hell-hounds that had dragged him into Hell in the first place. At least hounds only wanted to rip your body to shreds. Angels played head-games. They got inside your dreams and sent you back in time, they tested you and put you through trials by fire, and claimed they were working on the side of good. It was all bullshit.

"Please take us back to Bobby's, Cas," said Dean. "He can help us figure this mess out."

"I will take us to Bobby's," Cas agreed. "But this is a terrible mistake."

Dean did not get chance to reply. Cas lifted his hand, touching two fingers to Dean's forehead, and the warehouse disappeared.

o - o - o - o - o

Bobby Singer sat staring at the cold, metallic object on the desk in front of him. It was a daily ritual. Every morning, he'd wheel himself out of his bedroom, come in here, and look at the gun. It wasn't loaded. Not yet. A single bullet sat beside it. A single bullet was all it would take. The last few months in the wheelchair had been his own private Hell. He could end it. One bullet. A pull of the trigger. Maybe one last game of Russian Roulette.

So far, he had resisted. Not only because he was an excellent hunter, and his survival instincts were still alive and kicking, but because he had promised Dean that he wouldn't. The boy—though in truth, he was a man now, and had been for many years—had already lost enough. His mother had been killed by a demon when Dean was barely five years old. His father had sold his soul to save Dean's life, and then Dean had done likewise for Sam. The boys had no home to speak of, and the only family they had was each other. And him, of course.

"Bobby!"

Dean's shout made Bobby jump. He wasn't the easily scared type, but he hadn't been expecting the boys back so soon. The fact that the voice had materialised from the cellar meant that Castiel had transported them right there. And judging by the urgency that Dean had managed to convey in his single shouted word, Bobby guessed that things hadn't gone well. He'd _told_ them it was a trap. Bloody idjits.

Quickly, he slid the gun and bullet back into the desk drawer, and re-angled the baseball cap that had been his constant companion for as long as he could remember. He wheeled himself around to the front of the desk just as Dean came bounding into the room. The boy's clothes were dripping wet, and there was blood on his hands.

"Dean?" he asked, trying to look into the young man's eyes. "What the hell happened?"

"Long story," Dean said. "I need the holy oil that Cas picked up last time he was in Jerusalem. Where is it?"

Bobby nodded at one of the cabinets next to the old fireplace. "Second door up on the left, behind the first aid kit."

He watched as Dean all but ran to the cupboard and began pulling items out, until he got to the first aid kit. Bobby's first aid kit wasn't like a standard first aid kit. In addition to bandages, sterilising gel and slings, it held a set of rosary beads, a small revolver with both iron and silver rounds, a jar of salt, a small bottle of holy water, and a larger bottle of whisky in case of real emergencies. Dean knew better than to handle the kit roughly, so he placed it on the desk and reached back into the cupboard for what he had come for. The plain clay urn was nothing special to look at, but it was what the urn contained which made it unique.

"Care to tell me what's going on?" Bobby asked him.

"You gotta see this for yourself," replied Dean. His hazel eyes were troubled, but he didn't stick around for an explanation.

As Dean left the room, Bobby wheeled himself after the boy as fast as he was able. Towards the stairs they went, with Bobby letting his chair roll down the ramp that had been installed to give him access to the basement. Through the cellar and towards the solid iron panic-room, then through the door, where Bobby brought his chair to a complete halt. There was a girl in the middle of the room, bleeding from a dozen places, her dress covered in dark red patches. Her face was likewise red, and he saw symbols on her skin. Very _familiar_ symbols.

Sam was sitting on one of the bunks, biting one of his nails as he watched the girl. Castiel was merely standing over her, as if he just expected her to get up and start attacking them all. Bobby didn't know whether to be laugh or horrified. He wheeled himself closer to the scene of random chaos in the sanctity of his panic-room.

"Tell me you did _not_ carve Enochian sigils into that girl's face," he growled at the two men and the angel.

Castiel looked up at him. "This is no girl, and we did no carving. Dean... the oil?"

Bobby watched as Dean handed the jar over to Castiel, who immediately removed the stopper and began pouring the oil in a circle around the girl's body. On the bunk, Sam took a deep breath.

"Cas, are you _really_ sure this is necessary?" the youngest Winchester asked.

"Very."

"Sam? Dean? What the hell is going on?" Bobby demanded.

Neither of the boys replied, at first. It was only when the circle of holy oil had been completed, and Dean had ignited it with his lighter, that the brothers turned to face him. Castiel didn't even bother. He just kept watching the girl. Didn't even blink.

"Bobby, it was a trap," said Dean.

"Of course it was a trap, ya idjits," he replied. "I told you that before you left. More than once, you might remember."

"We knew it was a risk, but it was one we had to take. In case you've forgotten, we are running short of ideas."

"Don't take that tone with me, son," Bobby warned. "Every time you two go off, I get to sit here worrying about which of you is coming back dead and which is coming back with a time limit on his soul."

"Bobby, we're sorry," Sam said, ever the peace-maker. "We should have listened to you. We should have been more prepared. We were just..."

"Desperate," Bobby finished for him. He knew just how they felt. With Sam fated to become Lucifer's vessel, and Dean marked as Michael's, the future was not looking bright. "Just tell me what happened."

"Zachariah was waiting for us," said Dean. He shrugged his shoulders. "Bastard must have been desperate, because he was acting through one of those crazy preachers. Damn near human, with his plotting."

"How close did he come to... you know?" he asked, taking in the damp appearance of all three men, plus the outline of blood on Sam's upper lip that could only have been left by a nose-bleed.

Dean shook his head. "He trapped Cas and got the jump on me and Sam. Probably would have ended right there and then, if it wasn't for this... what'd you call her, Cas?" he called to the watching angel.

"Grigori," Cas replied, without looking around.

"Yeah," Dean continued. "So she popped up out of nowhere, told Zachariah she was going to stop him, and saved all of us in the process."

"So... she's an angel?" Bobby asked. There would be no other reason for the boys to be using the holy fire, but angels tended to get pissed off when you trapped them like that. The last thing he wanted was a pissed off angel trashing his panic-room.

"Cas says they're somewhere between cherubs and angels on the power side of the scale, and that they're called 'The Eyes of Heaven'."

"Oh, so you just decided to bring the damn Eyes of Heaven into my safe-house?" he asked, surprised that the boys would be so reckless.

"Well... sorta," Sam said, with a guilty smile. "We just thought it would be best to bring her somewhere safe. For... you know... questioning."

"Questioning? What in God's name do you want to ask the damn thing that Cas couldn't answer you?" he demanded.

"Well, for starters, how she was able to find us," Sam replied. "We were supposed to be hidden. Even Zachariah didn't know where we were. That's why he had to lure us to him using the preacher as bait."

"Also, how come she was able to send Zach running scared," Dean added. "Cas says these grigori aren't supposed to be this powerful. I'm just thinking... well, maybe somebody's giving her a bit of extra juice. Someone important, y'know?"

Bobby shook his head. That Dean, of all people, was willing to entertain the notion that an angel had been super-charged by God and sent to save him from Zachariah was a sign of how desperate the situation was becoming.

"Dean," said Castiel, a note of warning in his voice. Dean and Sam parted, and Bobby rolled forwards, and all three of them looked to the circle of fire. The girl was standing, now, dead in the centre of the fiery ring. Her eyes were the most vivid deep blue he had ever seen, and to him, it seemed that a halo of soft light surrounded her. Probably just a trick of the fire.

"Dean and Sam Winchester," the girl said, looking from brother to brother. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" She gave a quiet chuckle and smiled, though the smile stopped at her lips. "Sorry. Just a little grigori humour." She glanced around at the circle of fire, and seemed unconcerned by it. "It is good to finally see you in person, as it were. The view is a little less... clouded... from this angle."

Dean stepped forward, though he was still a few feet away from the fire. Bobby couldn't blame him. Angels had, largely, proven themselves to be only marginally more trustworthy than demons.

"You seem to know about us," he said. "Care to tell us who you are?"

"We've already done the introductions," she replied, fixing her eyes on Dean's face, as if trying to memorise it.

"The hell we have," he replied, and Bobby shook his head. Dean gave angels the same amount of respect he gave everyone else. In fact, he gave most angels _less_ respect. This was not going to end well for the panic-room.

"Then perhaps you should ask my brother who I am."

Bobby looked towards Cas, as did Sam and Dean. The angel took the statement in his stride.

"This is Avariel," he replied.

"What?" asked Dean. "I thought you said you didn't know her?"

"That is true. But Avariel is the name Zachariah called it by."

The girl, or angel, whatever she was... Avariel, clapped her hands several times. "Well done. With powers of observation like that, you could be a Watcher yourself."

This was, apparently, an insult. The angel-blade that Cas had taken from the traitorous angel Uriel slipped into his hand, extended to its full length. Sam looked shocked by its sudden appearance, and Dean quickly stepped forward, filling some of the gap between Cas and the ring of fire. Not that Castiel could have attacked the girl; to pass through holy fire meant death for an angel, and it didn't matter which way the circle was facing.

"Whoa, Cas, calm down," said Dean. "Take a time-out or something, if you have to."

"Oh, don't mind him," Avariel said. "He's just being cautious. I would be too, in his position. After all, gregori don't exactly have a sterling reputation in Heaven. And you boys have first-hand experience of how nasty a fallen gregori can be."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean demanded, turning to face the trapped girl.

She smiled. "Ahh... that's right. You're not familiar with that particular story." She turned her gaze to Cas. "What do you say, uncle Castiel? Will you tell the boys a bedtime story? Or should I?"

"I am going to kill you," said Cas, his voice cold.

Avariel shrugged. "Step inside my circle and give it a try, if you like. I don't bite."

Bobby had reached the end of his patience. He was fed up of never getting the answers he wanted as fast as he wanted them. Of being left behind. Of sitting to one side and trying to smooth ruffled feathers. It was bad enough when Sam and Dean were at each other's throats every other week, like it was their damn time of their month or something. He'd be damned if he was going to sit back and watch a pair of angels start scrapping in the only safe place he owned.

He wheeled his chair forwards, pushing Dean aside. "That's enough. All of you. I've had it up to here with you dragging somebody or something back into this room every five goddamn minutes, and acting like you own the place. In case you've forgotten, this is _my_ house. You're all _my_ guests. Now, I think I'm entitled to some answers to my questions. Or you can all conduct this little interrogation on somebody else's turf."

"Answers?" Avariel said. "I have plenty of answers. Ask me anything you like."

"What is this?" Castiel said before Bobby could even think of asking a question. He was holding up what appeared to be a steel longsword.

"Anything except that," the girl replied.

Sam stepped forward. "Listen... Avariel?" She nodded in response. "We're all very grateful to you for rescuing us from Zachariah." Bobby looked at the scowling face of Castiel, and the skeptical face of Dean, and doubted that Sam spoke for all of them. "But we have to know... why did you do it?"

"I thought that much would be obvious," the woman replied. "I wish to end the apocalypse before it can truly begin."

"I thought all angels wanted the apocalypse to happen?" Dean said. "You know, bring about the final battle? Peace and paradise on Earth, and all that."

"Opinion is... divided," she said evasively. "Many angels believe that the apocalypse is God's will. That this is the final test. Those of us who aren't morons, however, can see how much damage this war is doing to the Earth."

"Zachariah called you a rebel leader," said Sam. "Is that what you were rebelling against?"

"Mostly," she shrugged.

"What does that mean?" Bobby asked her.

"That is a very long story."

"And speaking of long stories," said Dean, "what were you saying about us knowing now nasty fallen grigori can get? We've never met one of your kind before."

Avariel glanced to Cas. "Do you want to tell them the story, brother, or should I? By your mouth or mine, they will hear the truth."

Castiel sighed defeatedly, and did not look pleased. But he did comply.

"Azazel was a grigori."

The girl lifted her arms up in exasperation. "You missed out the entire story!"

"_What_?" Dean asked, turning now to Cas with a look of confusion and anger. "The son of a bitch who started all of this, who stood over Sam's crib and poured demon blood into his mouth, was a damn _angel_?"

"There's a story behind it," Avariel said, though her words were unheard by all but Bobby. The air in the panic-room had suddenly become charged with tension. He almost got a static shock from it.

"When the hell were you going to tell us, Cas?" Dean demanded.

"I was not," Castiel replied. "It was deemed... unnecessary for you to know that. By the time I pulled you from Hell, Azazel was already dead. Besides, there is only one fallen angel you need to be concerned about. Lucifer. Not Azazel."

"I want to hear it," Sam said, ignoring Dean and Cas. He had stepped closer to the circle of fire, and was addressing Avariel. A frightening look haunted his brown eyes. Of course, this revelation was cutting him to the quick. Azazel had killed pretty much all of Sam's family. The yellow-eyed demon was the reason Sam had felt compelled to return to hunting, and the reason why all of this was happening. "Tell me the story."

"Sam," said Castiel. "You cannot trust what this grigori says. They are not reliable. And if it has fallen, it is dangerous. It should not even be here."

"You said that before," Dean said. "What do you mean, exactly?"

"It's part of the story," Avariel said. She aimed an icy glare at Castiel. "You're ruining it."

"It was decreed, long ago," said Cas, "that grigori shall not be allowed to take man as a vessel. Any grigori who tries such a thing is instantly destroyed. That this one has managed it means that it must have powerful protection. Such protection can only come from an arch-angel, and no arch-angel in heaven would shelter a criminal such as this. That means Lucifer."

"Or maybe it just means you're a moron," Avariel said. She seemed to be deriving some sort of pleasure from insulting the angel from behind her barrier of fire. It made Bobby wonder if she even thought of herself as a prisoner at all. "I quote verbatim, '_And from this moment henceforth, any grigori who takes man as a vessel shall be smote down by the power of heaven and destroyed utterly'_. Does that sound familiar?"

"That is what I already said," Castiel replied. He looked perplexed. He always frowned like that when he was perplexed.

"So did you go blind the moment you strapped yourself into your vessel, brother, or are you merely dense?" For a moment, Bobby thought Cas really _would_ try to strike at Avariel through the circle of fire. But when he did not reply, or act, the girl gestured at herself. "I took no man as my vessel. One hundred-percent loophole-friendly woman, here. Good for me that our big brothers are sexist idiots who _really_ need to know how to write proper decrees."

"Wait a minute," Bobby said, rolling a little closer to the fire. Odd, how it burnt with no warmth at all. "Are you telling me that your kind of angels are banned from taking men as vessels, but not women?"

Avariel shrugged. "Not exactly. It's a small technicality. Had the arch-angels used the word 'mankind' or 'humans' in place of 'man', I'd be screwed right now, as would the rest of you. Luckily, I pay attention to the details."

"But... why?" Dean asked. "I mean, why do they ban grigori from taking vessels, when other angels get to screw around with whole damn bloodlines?"

"Glad you asked," she said. "Let me tell you a story..."

"What is it with you and stories?"

"I've never told one before," she said. "So shut up and listen, and maybe, in time, you'll learn to ask the right questions." When Avariel spoke again, her voice had taken on a new tone, almost like that of a teacher recounting a tale to the children of her class. "Once upon a time, in the magical kingdom of Heaven, God created the angels, and they were all beautiful and perfect and never questioned anything God said. But then, one day, God created humans, and placed them on the Earth, and told the angels to love humans more than they loved him, to bow down before humanity and praise God's new creation. One angel, who was a very naughty boy, didn't think his father's rule fair, so he started to rebel. To show his father how flawed the humans were, he took one and corrupted the soul, so that it became the first demon."

"Lilith," Sam scowled. There was an anger in his eyes, a fire which was not a reflection of the burning holy oil.

"Glad you're keeping up. So, God was, as you can imagine, not very pleased with Lucifer. He banished his most beloved son to Earth, cutting him off from heaven, and his family. But don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to say I sympathise with Lucifer. He was the biggest idiot of them all. Anyway, God was concerned for his new pets. He created the grigori, and gave us the task of watching over humanity. And watch we did. But there's a funny thing about gazing into the abyss... sometimes it gazes back. And that's what happened. A few of the grigori—"

"Two hundred of them," Castiel corrected, speaking for the first time since Avariel had insulted him.

"Fine, two hundred of them, saw the humans and became envious. They became particularly attracted to the beauty of human women, and they started to inhabit vessels, so that they could eat, drink, and fornicate. It was all harmless fun to begin with... or I'm sure that's what they all thought at the time. But through the union of such couplings were born the Nephilim, known at the time as 'the offspring of the sons of God, and the daughters of men'."

"Unholy abominations," Cas growled.

"Yes, yes," Avariel continued. "And they were all very rightfully wiped out. And when I say wiped out, I man biblically. The 'sins' that God wanted to wash away with that whole Noah flood thing? Nephilim. After the flood was finished, and all of the abominations had been destroyed, it was decreed that no grigori should ever be allowed to take man as a vessel again, because nobody, and I mean _nobody_, wants to see the Nephilim return."

"What does this have to do with Azazel?" Sam asked.

"Really? It's not obvious?" Avariel said, looking surprised. "I thought I'd implied it rather well. You see, Azazel was one of the chief grigori, before he developed a taste for eating, drinking and fornicating. Of course, the angels needed to make an example out of somebody. All of the grigori who had taken part in the two-hundred-year hedonistic orgy were cast out from Heaven, banished to Earth, forced to wander in their vessels. Many of them became mortal and died. But a few were picked up by Lucifer, who was finding the corruption of human souls to be less and less of a challenge every day. So, of course, he decided to corrupt a few angels, too. Before he was caged in the pit of Hell by Michael, he managed to turn a few angels into demons, though nobody in Heaven knows how he did it. That's why Azazel was even more of a sadistic son of a bitch than most other demons; because he had once resided in Heaven, and he remembered what he had lost when he was banished. He became determined to punish angels for what he perceived to be a crime against him and his traitorous kin. This, of course, really sucked for the rest of us. None of the other reindeer let us join in all their reindeer games, after that."

"My heart bleeds," said Dean dryly.

Bobby shook his head. He didn't want the angel antagonised, because as she had been speaking, a thought had blossomed in his mind. Avariel couldn't stay caged in his basement forever. Sooner or later, the boys would either have to let her out, or kill her. And if he could get something out of her being free, it was an opportunity he had to take. He wheeled his chair closer to the fire.

"Avariel," he said. "I want to ask you something."

"Shoot," she said.

"If we were to trust you, and let you out of that circle..." He held up his hand to stall the objections from the other three in the room, "would you be able to heal my legs? Could you make it so that I can walk again?"

Avariel looked at him thoughtfully, tapping her chin with her finger. Then she shook her head.

"I don't want to come out of this circle."

"You _want_ to be a prisoner?" Dean asked in disbelief.

"Are you kidding? I just kicked seraphim ass. I mean, did you see me? That was probably the most awesome thing ever. Do you know how difficult it is, for a grigori to go up against something like that? I fully expected to die in the attempt, so I'm thrilled that I made it. But now, Zachariah is going to be the most pissed off son of a bitch in Heaven. Holy fire might be keeping me in, but it's also keeping him out."

"She's lying," Castiel accused.

"Hey!" She pointed her finger at him and scowled. "Lying by omission is not lying."

"Cas?" Sam asked. "What do you mean?"

"Even if she wanted to come out of the circle, she would not be able to heal you, Bobby. They have cut her off from Heaven."

Avariel shrugged, as if it was of no consequence. "Well, yes. I'm sure the first thing Zachariah did when he got back to Heaven was slap a celestial restraining order on my angelic self."

Sam shook his head. "Are you sure she's an angel, Cas? She doesn't sound much like an angel."

"What, you think angels come in 'one size fits all'?" the girl scoffed. "Hello? Eyes of Heaven? I've spent the past few thousand years watching humans. I was there to watch the raising of stonehenge, and to witness the building of the great pyramids of Egypt. I've seen cultures rise and fall. I've seen Queen live in concert, and watched all of the Star Wars films, though episodes one to three were just dire. I understand your popular culture references. I can walk the walk and talk the talk. Honestly. Ask me about anything except reality TV programmes. Those things will rot a brain, human or angel."

"Episodes four to six," said Dean. "Which was your favourite?"

Bobby shook his head as Avariel replied.

"The Empire Strikes Back, of course."

"Ah-ha! No decent angel would enjoy witnessing evil triumph over good," Dean accused.

"Really? Because I thought that it was when times are darkest, that the light burns brightest." She shrugged. "Besides, Return of the Jedi had Ewoks. I can't forgive that."

"Amen, sister." Dean suddenly realised that everyone was staring at him, and he cleared his throat before pointing sternly at Avariel. "I mean... bad angel. You'll stay in that circle of fire until we're ready to deal with you."

"There is one thing I want to know," said Cas to the caged woman. "How is it that a tiny little grigori like you managed to get the better of a powerful seraphim like Zachariah?"

"_Little_?" she hissed angrily, her blue eyes glowing in the firelight. "Perhaps I'm not as powerless as you seem to think, Castiel. I broke you out of your trap, didn't I? I sent Zachariah fleeing back to Heaven, didn't I? If I am of such little concern, why have you caged me in a circle of holy fire? Believe I'm your prisoner all you want. Right now, I am exactly where I want to be. And when I want to get out of this circle, I will get out of this circle. At that time, if you wish to attempt to succeed where Zachariah failed, be my guest. We'll see who's left standing, at the end."

Bobby felt like swearing. He didn't, because he couldn't come up with something adequate enough, but he felt like doing it anyway. He'd had an easy life, once. Sure, it was full of danger and weirdness, but it had otherwise been quiet. Almost peaceful. He hadn't realised it at the time, of course, but now he sometimes missed those old, dangerous, weird, quiet times. For a start, there hadn't been any drama. He'd take a job, kill something, save the civilians, come home, and drink. Sometimes he worked with other hunters, sometimes he flew solo. The work had been steadier, and generally not surprising in any way.

Then, something terrible had happened. John Winchester had died, leaving Bobby to step into the role of father figure to the already grown Winchester boys. And though Bobby loved them both dearly, and considered them his closest family despite their lack of blood ties, they had a habit of dragging all of their melodramatic crap into his life. When they weren't constantly at each others' throats, they spent their time hauling any number of demonic or angelic individuals to his home. It wasn't their fault, of course. Sam had more devils on his shoulder than anybody Bobby had ever met, and ever since Cas had hauled Dean out of Hell, the angels had taken a very active interest in the eldest Winchester boy. He just wished that, sometimes, they could learn to handle their own problems. He wasn't going to be around forever, God knew it, and if they didn't learn how to cope without him before that time, they were really going to struggle.

The angel inside the circle of fire suddenly coughed, spitting blood onto the floor. It was then Bobby noticed for the first time that the floor inside the circle was glistening, red liquid pooling inside it. He'd been so preoccupied with the situation that he hadn't realised how badly injured the girl truly was. Sam saw it too, and stepped forward.

"Hey, are you okay?" the boy asked.

"I just let Zachariah kick the crap out of me," Avariel said, glowering. She was almost bent double with pain. "Next time, why don't we let you do that, and then you tell me if you're 'okay' afterwards?"

"Can't you just... you know... heal yourself?"

Avariel shook her head. "I didn't get chance for the standard days-long preparation a vessel should ideally have. I had to use the express check-out lane in the vessel supermarket, you might say. As soon as I realised Zachariah had you in his grasp, I descended to Earth and gave my vessel a five minute ultimatum. This body was unprepared, and has sustained more damage than I can handle."

"So what, you're just going to die?" Dean asked, a scornful tone in his voice. "That's quitter talk."

"Die?" The woman gave a humourless smile. "An interesting concept. Maybe I'll die. I do plan to try everything here at least once, and that includes death. But right now, I'm going to lie down on the floor and go comatose before I collapse onto the very unhealthy walls of my prison. Okay?"

"Uh... okay."

The girl didn't even wait for Dean to answer. She merely sank onto the floor and curled her limbs in towards her body, as far away from the circle of holy fire as possible. A few seconds later, she was silent, still.

"Is she..?" Sam asked, letting the question trail off.

"No," said Cas, turning to face Bobby and the Winchesters at last. "It probably will die, though. But, just on the off chance that it _doesn't_ die, and you deem it necessary to continue the questioning, try to use its pride against it. Make it angry. That seems to work."

Bobby sighed. Making an angel angry was a plan only another dumb-ass angel would come up with. Of course, he didn't say that out loud. He had slightly more respect—and a slightly healthier survival instinct—than Dean.

"You're not staying, Cas?" Dean asked.

"No, I have things to do." Castiel looked to, or _through_, one of the walls of the panic room. "But I must caution you. Do not, under any circumstances, free the grigori from the circle. You should not trust what it says, either."

A breeze blew through the room, and Castiel was gone.

"Yeah," said Dean. "Pleasure as always." The eldest Winchester glanced at the unmoving form of the woman. "Do you think we're making a mistake, Bobby?"

"I don't know, son," he replied, genuinely concerned for the welfare of his charges. "We've known for a while now that you two are smack bang in the middle of a war between angels and demons. Now we know that you've also, somehow, gotten mixed up in a war between angels and angels. I don't think that changes anything, but it sure doesn't make me feel any safer."

"This rebellion that Avariel is leading—" Sam began. But Dean interrupted him.

"_Was_ leading. You heard what Zach said, right? Whilst she was down here kicking that smug son of a bitch's ass, team arch-angel were up there killing off God only knows how many of her people. For all we know, she _is_ the last of the rebellion. If you ask me, this could be an opportunity."

"How do you mean?" Sam asked his older brother.

"I'm willing to bet that the angels have put a high price on her head. And if Cas doesn't trust her, then I don't trust her. She may have saved our lives, but as we've seen, countless times, angels are more than happy to use us as their chess pieces. Maybe we shouldn't give this one the chance."

"You mean... hand her over to Michael?" Sam asked. He sounded worried, and looked worried.

"I'm just trying to keep our options open."

"You can't be serious. What do you think the angels will give you for turning her over? Do you think they'll just let you go? You're Michael's _vessel_, Dean. And even if they promised you the world... would you believe a word out of their mouths?"

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, a clear indication of how tired he was. "I dunno, Sammy. I just... I'm just so fed up with this. All of it. Angels, demons... I don't know who's on our side anymore, and who's just yanking our chains. You and Bobby are the only family I have left. The only people I can count on."

"Boy, you need to sleep," Bobby told Dean.

"Yeah. I know. And I think I'll go do that."

He watched the eldest Winchester leave the room, and heard him trudge up the stairs. Sam stayed a moment longer, watching the comatose angel, then he left too. Bobby sighed at the sight of the bloody girl. It would be easier, more convenient, if she just died. But, as a rule, 'easy' and 'convenient' were not things that happened to Bobby Singer. Shaking his head at how screwed up this situation was, he left the panic room in favour of a bottle of whisky.

_- o -_

_Author's Note: I'm not big on author notes, so I'll keep this short and sweet. Thanks for reading chapter 1. I hope you've enjoyed it. If you're sticking around for further chapters, I'll take this moment to explain how the rest of the story is going to work. The title of the story is 'Fallen', and the story is made up of many 'books' (the first of which is titled 'Angels, Angels, Everywhere'), which in turn are made up of chapters of varying lengths. This particular book has six chapters, the next has four, the one after that is back to six, etc._

_This story will be updated every Friday, to give readers a chance to catch up over the weekend._


	2. The Watcher

_**Fallen**_

_**Book 1: Angels, Angels, Everywhere**_

Chapter 2

_- The Watcher -_

Sam yawned, covering his hand briefly with his mouth. He couldn't remember a time when he had been so tired, though he suspected it was probably right after Jessica's death. Nightmares of how she had died had plagued his mind in the months after the event, and he had struggled to sleep. Now, he struggled to sleep for a different reason. When he closed his eyes and let himself relax, Lucifer had a habit of showing up. Not many people could truthfully say that Satan talked to them in their sleep, but Sam was one of the unfortunate few. The most beloved son of God was persistent, if nothing else.

He knew that Dean had trouble sleeping, though for different reasons. When Dean slept, angels entered his dreams, and tried to talk him into becoming Michael's vessel. Sometimes, when Dean had fallen into fitful slumber yet Sam remained awake, he heard his elder brother talking in his sleep. It was only ever one word. 'No'. Dean said 'no' to Michael and his lackeys as often as Sam said 'no' to Lucifer. And yet everybody, on both sides, seemed to think that in the end, both brothers would change their minds. That both would say yes, and one would kill the other.

From his chair, he glanced at the form of the woman lying prone in the circle of fire. The holy oil would, allegedly, burn for eternity. The girl, or at least the angel inhabiting her body, had not moved or made any sound for three days. He, Dean and Bobby had been taking it in turns to watch over her, for any sign of wakefulness. So far, there had been none. Sam didn't know what to make of it. Any of it. She had saved their lives, but Castiel didn't trust her. She had given more answers to his questions than all of the other angels combined, and yet she was obviously holding a lot back. He just wished things could be easy for once.

He looked back down to his book. It was some old tome of Bobby's, relating to biblical omens. Not that it was of much use now. Thanks to Sam, the seals on Lucifer's prison had already been broken, and the fallen angel was walking the Earth with impunity. The Four Horsemen had been unleashed. The brothers had already stopped War, but that left Pestilence, Famine, and Death. Four years ago, Sam had been fighting ghosts and wendigos. Now he was trying to fight the apocalypse. It was almost overwhelming.

Briefly, he glanced up at the circle again, and jumped almost out of his skin. The angel was standing upright, her gaze focused on him. It made him shiver, but angels had a habit of doing that. He knew that most of them didn't like him or trust him, and considered him little more than a rabid animal to be put down. At least _this_ angel was caged... for the moment. And she _had_ saved their lives. He got the feeling that Avariel was different. Not really like the rest of them. But at the same time, he realised that that could be simple wishful thinking. He wanted to believe that they had at least one ally in this. One person looking out for them. Cas did his best, but he couldn't always be there. He had his own battles to fight.

"Hello, Sam," Avariel said.

She looked better, after three days of being comatose. The sigils on her cheeks were gone and the worst of her wounds seemed to have closed up. Her clothes were still blood-stained, though, and her face was pale beneath the dried crimson. He wondered, and not for the first time, how close to death she had come. Why had she risked everything to save he and Dean? It was a question he needed an answer to, but Dean and Bobby deserved the answer just as much. He turned to the door, to shout upstairs for them.

"Wait, Sam," she said, and he turned back to her. "Before you summon my jailors once more, there is something I want to say to you."

"And what's that?" he asked.

"That I am sorry. For all that has happened to you. For all that will happen to you." She took a step forward in her prison, a step closer to the holy fire. She looked more demon than angel, all dark-eyed and blood-soaked. "When one angel falls, it shames us all. That two hundred fell, in the shadow of Lucifer's betrayal... it is a crime beyond imagination. And what Azazel did to you, and to those other children..." Avariel shook her head. "Had I the power to stop it, I would have done so in a heartbeat. Perhaps I could have spared us all this pain."

"You're a Watcher, right?" he asked. He felt his hands closing into fists, the nails on his fingers biting into his palms. Avariel brought up things he wanted to repress, and accepted blame for the tragedies in his life. For years, he'd wanted somebody to punish. He'd wanted to be the one to shove the muzzle of the Colt against Azazel's head and pull the trigger. Revenge was beyond him, now. All he had left was his anger. "How could you _not_ know what Azazel and the other grigori were up to? How could you _not_ see them falling?"

She looked at the floor for a moment, before raising her eyes back to his face. "We were created to watch humanity. Nobody said 'watch other angels.' We had no reason to suspect our brothers capable of such treachery. Too late, we realised our mistake. But we could not correct it. Our actions can only be likened to... a computer program. A program cannot act outside of its parameters, and in the beginning, our parameters did not include being alert for signs of betrayal within the ranks. Things were different, back then."

"Different how?" he asked. He couldn't help the question that slipped from his mouth. What he knew about angels and Heaven came mostly from books, and a small amount from Cas. Now, he had in front of him somebody who seemed willing to answer questions. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.

"Well, for a start, God was still around," she said. "We had a leader, Samyaza, and it was he who received his orders directly from our Father. We had no need to pander to arch-angels, and we were afforded a place of respect in Heaven. At least, until the War, when Samyaza, Azazel, and the other sinners were cast out."

"Is that what you are, too?" he asked. "Just one more fallen angel?"

She shook her head. "I have not fallen, Sam. I may have been cast out from Heaven, but it is not the same thing. Not at all."

"What do you mean?"

"Angels fall when they disobey God. I have not disobeyed God. In fact, I have been carrying out his orders."

"God ordered you to rebel?" he asked.

Avarial shook her head, and smiled. "God ordered me... he ordered all of us... to love humans as we love him. And I do, Sam. To me... to all grigori... humanity is a precious thing. We have watched you for millennia. And when we saw what the apocalypse was doing to humanity, we decided to act. For the first time in several thousand years, the grigori were... mostly united. A traitorous few remain loyal to the arch-angels, of course, but I would rather not think of them. My point is, I have not rebelled against God. I never have. I am merely following his orders. Watch humanity, and love it. I may have been cast out of Heaven, but I have not fallen from God's favour, nor his grace."

"Well well. Look who's awake."

Sam turned, to find Dean and Bobby standing-—nd in the case of the latter, sitting-—n the doorway to the panic room. For a brief second, Sam felt a blush creep up his neck. Then he pushed away the guilt. He had done nothing wrong. Dean had wanted the woman questioned, and Sam was merely doing just that. It was obvious that she did not respond well to Dean's lack of respect, or Castiel's threats, so perhaps his own way was best.

"Dean. Bobby," said Avariel, nodding at them in turn. "I am pleased to see you both unharmed. I'd worried that perhaps, in my absence, you may have run off to Zachariah again."

"So... you didn't bleed to death," Dean said, stepping into the room.

"Indeed. My vessel is not yet completely recovered, but I believe we will both survive."

"Lucky us." Dean stopped outside the circle of fire, and folded his arms across his chest. Bobby wheeled himself into the room, and stopped a short distance away. "Now, maybe you could answer some more questions for us."

Avariel smiled. "Are you sure you want answers? The angel on your shoulder suggests you should not believe anything I say."

"Well, the angel on my shoulder isn't here right now. Humour me."

"As you wish."

Sam stepped back. He knew that, for Dean, this was a little more personal. Dean had been jerked around by angels ever since his return from Heaven, and he generally hated it when they took a personal interest in him. For the moment, he was more than willing to give his brother the floor.

"Tell me about your rebellion, for a start. Who, exactly, are you rebelling against? And why?"

"I thought that would have been obvious." Avariel paced around in her circular cell, her footsteps making sticky noises as she walked through the pool of her own blood. "We were rebelling against the apocalypse. Against the machinations of Michael, and Raphael."

"I get that. But why? If you angels win, it's paradise on Earth, right?"

Avariel cocked her head as she looked at Dean, as if confused by the question.

"What _is_ paradise, Dean? What is paradise for Michael might be Hell for you. Do you really think that the angels will just relinquish the Earth to humans, if they manage to wrest control of it from the grip of the demons? Do you believe that Michael, or Raphael, would suddenly start caring about humanity? That they would treat humans as equals? When angels say 'paradise', they don't mean 'peace on Earth and good-will to all men'. They mean paradise for angels, which does not include bowing down to humans."

"And you have a problem with that?"

"Of course I have a problem with it, you idiot. I am a _Watcher_. I exist to watch _humanity_. What do you think my purpose will be if humans are no longer the majority on this mud-ball of a planet? What am I to do then? Start watching angels, instead? Do you have any idea how boring that is, Dean? Take it from someone who has experience in the matter; I would die of ennui if paradise was brought to Earth, and I had nothing to watch but angels."

"So you'd let humans continue to suffer demons and monsters, just to give meaning to your existence?"

"Dean," she sighed, shaking her head. "You don't understand. You can be safe, or you can be free. Whichever you accept, the other has to be sacrificed. If Michael wins, you'll have paradise on Earth. You'll live perfect, happy lives, with no disease or poverty or war. But you will be nothing but a subservient race to angels. And if Lucifer wins, you will be free to live a life of your choosing, but it will never be a long life, and out of petty jealousy, Lucifer would destroy all of humanity within a century."

"From where I'm sitting," Bobby said, "your version of black and white sounds more like black and black."

"I agree," said Avariel. "If Michael wins, humanity suffers. If Lucifer wins, humanity suffers. I would prefer to see humans come out on top of this one. So I am not for black or white, but for a shade or grey somewhere between the two. This world may not be perfect, and humans may be inherently flawed, but you can always choose to be better."

"From what Zachariah said," Sam spoke up, "it doesn't sound as if your rebellion is going very well at the moment."

"Quite the understatement, Sam," she replied. "If Zachariah can be believed-—nd I have no reason to doubt him on this matter-— am quite possibly all that is left of it."

"And it doesn't bother you?" Dean asked. "That your fellow rebels are being slaughtered whilst you're sitting here safe in our trap?" For a brief moment, Sam wondered if Dean had lost his mind. Then, he realised what his elder brother was doing. Dean was trying to make her angry. He and Bobby were going to try the 'good cop, bad cop' routine.

Avariel gave him a murderous glare. "Of course it bothers me. Do you know what it feels like, to be responsible for the deaths of your friends and family? All of them?"

"Then why come here, instead of fighting with them?" Castiel asked. Sam flinched at the angel's sudden and silent appearance. He just couldn't get used to the guy showing up like that. Was ringing a doorbell too much to ask for?

"Ahh, my jailor returns," said Avariel.

"Answer the question, grigori," Cas replied.

"To avert the apocalypse. We've just been over this. Didn't you get the memo?"

"How did you even find us?"

"Hello? Eyes of Heaven?"

"This is no time to be flippant, grigori," Cas growled. "If you found us, then the Watchers who remain loyal to the arch-angels may find us too. If the Enochian sigils on the bones of Sam and Dean have ceased to function, then we are all in danger and we must move swiftly."

"That's a good point," said Bobby. "I thought those markings were supposed to keep the boys safe?"

Avariel glared at both the angel and the man in the wheelchair.

"I thought you said you had answers?" Dean said to the girl. "If you ever want us to trust you, you're going to have to stop keeping secrets."

"Some secrets are mine to keep," she scowled. "But... you need not fear. The Enochian wardings on your ribs remain intact and functional. You are hidden from the sight of angels. Even hidden from the sight of Watchers."

"Then how did you find us, Avariel?" Sam asked her.

She scowled at him, then sighed. "I told you. I am the Eyes of Heaven."

"And that means... what, exactly?" asked Bobby.

Avariel folded her arms across her chest, and fixed him with an icy glare. The older man seemed completely unphased by it, though it sent a chill up Sam's spine.

"Avariel," said Dean. "I'm only going to say this once. Tell us how you found us, or I'm going to open that circle of fire and let Zachariah drag you back to Heaven kicking and screaming."

"Fine," she snapped. "I found you by watching somebody close to you. Somebody who was _not_ protected by Enochian sigils. Somebody I was ordered to watch by the leader of the rebellion."

"Wait, what?" Sam said, stepping closer to the girl in the fire. "I thought _you_ were the leader of the rebellion?"

"Not at first," she admitted. "That honour went to a great and wise grigori named Bartholomew. It was he who instructed me in my Watching, and he who first realised what the arch-angels intended. He encouraged us to resist passively. At first we Watched, and were somewhat sedentary in reporting on the activities of individuals on Earth."

"You had a _go slow?_" Dean asked.

"At first, yes. Then, at Bartholomew's recommendation, we began feeding false information back to the upper echelon. Through this dissemination were you Winchesters, your allies, and other influential humans, allowed to act without swift interference from Heaven."

"And what happened to this 'Bartholomew'?" said Bobby.

"Raphael obliterated him," Avariel said, quite factually. "And ordered the rest of us to return to our duties, or meet the same end."

"And you complied?"

"Initially. But the more I Watched, the more I became convinced that Bartholomew was correct. I restarted the rebellion. Only this time, we tried for a coup d'état. We failed, of course, betrayed by the few who remained loyal to our older brothers. Raphael has been hunting me for some time now."

"An entertaining tale," said Castiel. "But all you have done is provide a distraction, so that we would not realise you have not yet answered the question of how you found us."

"I see nothing gets past you, brother," Avariel smiled. The expression ended at her lips, completely failing to reach her deep blue eyes. "A pity you did not think to carve Enochian warding sigils into your _own_ ribs."

There was a moment of silence as the implication sank in.

"You were watching _me?"_ Castiel asked. He didn't sound as if he believed her claim.

"I told the boys I had experience in watching angels. The moment you were cut off from Heaven, Bartholomew told me to Watch you. He thought you were... interesting. I personally disagree. You lead a very boring existence. Well, apart from that incident in the brothel. That was very amusing."

Dean chuckled to himself, then stopped at a frosty glare from Cas.

"I don't believe you," said Cas to Avariel.

"Oh? How do you think you managed to evade capture so far? By skill and luck? No, brother, you're not that skilled, nor that lucky. From pretty much the moment I was instructed to Watch you, Bartholomew and I fed back false information to the arch-angels. We had them chasing phantoms of you all over the Earth. It was entertaining, and pleased us to thwart their plans for you."

"You're not... Watching me now, are you?"

"Maybe."

"I command you to cease it."

"You are in no position to command me to do anything, brother," Avariel said smugly. "And even if I _wanted_ to stop-—hich I can guarantee you, I do— would not do that. You see, the moment a grigori selects an individual to Watch, no other grigori can Watch that individual. By my eyes alone are you kept safe from the sight of Raphael. The moment I stop Watching you, one of the loyalists will take over, and then you'll be pretty much screwed. Therefore, I recommend you say 'thank you', not only for saving the three of you from Zachariah, but for continuing to safeguard you from Raphael and Michael. Manners maketh man, after all."

There was no response from Cas, because Cas was no longer there. Whether he'd left for his own purposes or to get away from the grigori Sam did not know, but he could take a pretty good guess.

"So... you're Heaven's stalker, huh?" Dean asked the girl.

"I'm the only stalker on your side," she shrugged. "Just be thankful I'm not one of those creepy heavy-breathing-down-the-phone-line types."

"Thank God for small miracles."

Suddenly, a chilling thought struck Sam, turning his skin to goosebumps. "Avariel," he said, "you said that the loyalist Watchers can't see me, or Dean, and that you keep Cas from their sight. But what's to stop one of them finding us through Bobby?"

"I Watch him too," she replied.

"And what's to stop them finding us through _you_? I mean, you were watching Cas. What if one of them is Watching you?"

"I do not believe the arch-angels would allow it. Not now."

"Really? Why?"

"After our rebellion, the grigori loyal to Heaven will never be trusted with that much freedom again. Think about it. Long ago, grigori who Watched corrupt humans became corrupt in turn. And then Bartholomew and I, Watching Castiel, formed the rebellion. Does it not appear that grigori who Watch too intently can be influenced by those they are Watching? Like I said before; sometimes the abyss gazes back. The arch-angels will not risk the remaining grigori turning rebellious by Watching me."

"So," Dean said, "what was your plan? Other than come down here and save us from Zach, I mean. What happens now?"

"Well, I hadn't truly expected to survive my encounter with Zach," she said. "I hope to help you avert the apocalypse."

"You don't wanna try to get back to Heaven, kick-start your rebellion?"

"There is nothing to kick-start," she said factually. "Everybody is dead. I can cause more trouble for the arch-angels down here, than I can up there."

Upstairs, a phone rang, and Bobby cursed. "That'll be Rufus. He was looking into a job for me, I told him to call if he found anything. You boys are probably going to want to hear this."

"We'll talk later," Dean told Avariel.

"I look forward to it."

"C'mon, Sam," Dean said.

Sam lingered behind for a moment, watched by the angel. He wished he could know what she was thinking, and whether she truly was on their side. He saw no reason for her to lie, but he was a lot more skeptical of the claims of angels, now, than he had been a year ago. They lied when it suited them, and he didn't doubt that Avariel would lie if she thought it would get her something.

Turning, he followed his brother out of the room. For the moment, he had a job to do. Angels could wait.

o - o - o - o - o

In a tiny clearing in the forest was a small campfire, burning brightly in the darkness, filling the air with the homely and safe smell of burnt wood. To humans, the smell of fire had not held any fear since the moment they had learnt how to tame and control it. Almost all wild animals shied away from it, but not humans.

Beside this campfire sat one man. He held a stick over the fire, a marshmallow speared on the end of it. Leaning back against the fallen tree trunk which was supporting his back, he closed his eyes and let himself relax. It was rare for him to find a peaceful moment, and he liked to take advantage of them at every chance he got.

"Hello, Dean."

His eyes flew open and he jumped in fright. Standing next to the fire was Avariel, her clothes still bloody, her face still pale. She watched him, but made no move.

"How the hell did you get out of that trap?" he demanded.

"I didn't. I'm still in it. See?"

The scene blurred, and suddenly the campfire was not a campfire at all. It was a circle of burning holy oil, in which Avariel stood. When he pulled his long stick out of the flames, the marshmallow was gone.

"I'm dreaming," he said, as understanding dawned.

"Yes. How did your job go?"

"Oh, just fine." He tossed the stick away, but didn't stand up. But he did lean back against the trunk again, and cross his arms behind his head. Let her see him unafraid of her. "Pack of demons tormenting the townsfolk. You know how it is."

"I was worried about you."

"Really?" he asked, though the question was both skeptical and rhetorical.

"Yes. You have been back at Bobby's house for almost twenty-four hours, and yet you have not come to see me."

"I've been kinda tired." It was an understatement. He'd hacked and fought his way through over a dozen demons in the past four days. He and Sam had managed to exorcise a few, but not as many as he would have liked. Too many innocent men and women, forced by the demons controlling their bodies to do terrible things against their will, had died by his hand. And he could never make that right. Never.

"I understand. And I wish I could leave you to the peace of this dream." Her blues eyes were heated as she looked at him through the flames. "But I need you to come and see me, Dean. Right now. It's urgent. Lives are at stake."

"What do you mean?"

"Come and see me, Dean."

He was slammed out of his dream and his eyes opened to darkness. He took in several deep breaths of air, then reached for the nearby lamp switch. He was always jarred awake when angels talked to him in his dreams, but never with such force before. He felt as if he'd been dropped from a ten story building straight onto his back.

When he switched the light on, he fumbled for his phone, whilst on the other sofa Sam rubbed groggily at his eyes.

"Dean? What's going on?" Sam asked. He glanced at the clock. "It's two in the morning."

"I know. Wake Bobby. Avariel just came into my dream and told me she needs to speak to me urgently. I get the feeling it's important."

"What are you doing?"

"Calling for back-up, just in case this is a trap."

Sam disappeared towards Bobby's room, and Dean dialled Castiel's number. The very idea of calling an angel on a cellphone was laughable, but when he and Sam left Bobby's, it was the only way they had of contacting Cas. When the angel had hidden both Winchesters from the sight of angels, he had also hidden them from himself.

The line rang once, then clicked. "Yes?"

"Cas, I need you at Bobby's house, ASAP."

A gust of wind passed through the room, ruffling Dean's hair.

"I am here," Cas said, hanging up the phone. "What is so urgent?"

"Avariel was just in my dream," he said.

"Did she harm you?"

"What? It's possible for angels to harm me in my dreams?"

"I'm not sure. Who knows what grigori are capable of, when they take a human vessel?"

It was not a comforting thought. "No. She didn't harm me. But she did say she wanted to speak to me urgently. And I figured that whatever was so urgent that she needed to enter my dream and then slam me out of it with about five G-forces, must either be important, or—"

"A trap," Cas finished. "I will meet you down there and make sure it is safe."

There was a another brief gust of wind, and Cas was gone. "Damnit, Cas," Dean muttered to himself. The last thing he wanted was for his friend to walk into the trap intended for him, but when Cas decided on a course of action, he was gone before anybody could object.

"Dean?" He turned to find Bobby wheeling himself into the room, followed by Sam. The older man's hair was sticking up at different angles, and he looked odd without his cap for once. "Sam just gave me the brief of what happened. Are we assuming Avariel's set up some sort of trap for us?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "Cas is down there right now, but I'd rather not leave him alone with her, just in case." It was just as likely that Cas would attempt to kill the grigori, as she would attempt to kill him. Angels killing each other in Bobby's house was the last thing he needed right now.

Together they made their way down the stairs to the cellar, and towards the closed door of the panic room. Sam stepped forwards, to open it, and Dean almost sighed with relief. Avariel was still inside the circle of holy fire, and Castiel was merely watching her with suspicion.

"Dean." Avariel gave him an amused grin. "You called the cavalry? Do you fear to speak with me alone?"

He opened his mouth ready to retort, but then stopped. Avariel's eyes were no longer their usual cornflower blue. Instead, they were silver, like liquid mercury, and they seemed to shine from within. He was used to all sorts of weird crap from angels, but this was a whole new level of weird.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" he asked, stepping cautiously forwards to stand beside Cas.

"Nothing at all. You merely seem them as they truly are."

"So... grigori have silver eyes?"

"Yes. But that is not why I asked you to come here."

"Then why? What's so important that you needed to slam me out of my dream with enough force to wind me?"

"Sorry about that," she said, though she didn't sound sorry at all. "I've never dream-walked before. I may not have realised my own strength." She smiled, which just looked plain eerie with her eyes all silver and bright. "Next time, I will be gentle with you."

"There isn't going to be a next time. Tell me what you want or I'm going back to sleep."

"I have work for you," she said.

"Work? Is this a joke?"

"It is no joke. In fact, it's very serious. There is a town called Yellow Creek, in the state of Colorado. All who dwell there will be dead within a day, if you are not able to stop it."

Dean felt as if spiders were crawling under his skin. An entire town full of people? That could mean hundreds, or thousands. What could kill so many people in so short a time? A few of the usual suspects sprang to mind: Croatoan virus; Zombies; One of the Horsemen; Severely pissed off spirits.

"What's doing the killing?" Bobby asked, wheeling himself forward.

"Barghest," Avariel replied. "A pack of them. They will be there within hours."

"Barghest?" Sam asked. "As in... Black Dogs? The Wild Hunt?"

Avariel sighed and shook her head. "It is true that Black Dogs make up the bulk of what you call 'The Wild Hunt,' but barghests are not true Black Dogs as you know them."

"Then what are they?"

"Hellhounds," Castiel spoke up. He did not look pleased at the prospect.

"Yes and no," Avariel corrected. "They were hellhounds once, but they escaped from Hell, or were perhaps set free. No longer controlled by their demonic masters, they wandered the Earth, and were changed by it. They exist now as physical entities, though they retain some of their supernatural abilities; they are fast, strong, and do not tire. But unlike hellhounds, barghests can be seen by the eyes of any human. They do not require any special weapon to be killed; a knife will work whether it is iron or steel or silver, as will bullets, as long as you can either pierce a vital organ or cause enough damage to the body. Unfortunately, because they are no longer bound to Hell, they are unconcerned by salt, and cannot be stopped by a barrier of it."

"How many are in this pack?" Bobby asked.

"Nine."

"And you know his how?" said Castiel, suspicious as ever about the grigori's motives.

"Zachariah may have clipped my proverbial wings, brother, but I can still fly," she said, turning her silver eyes to the angel. He almost flinched under her gaze. Almost. "I was created by God to Watch, and only He can take away that power from me. Now, Sam, Dean, I suggest we move quickly. It won't be long until—"

"We?" Dean asked, cutting her off. "No way, sister. If you think I'm letting you out of that circle for even a second, you are sadly mistaken."

"Very well," she capitulated. "I will leave the killing of nine vicious slaughter-machines to you. Good luck, and try not to get your throat ripped out."

"Dean," Sam said, and he knew immediately what his brother was going to say. "We could probably use all the help we can get on this. The last time we tangled with hellhounds, it didn't end well."

"Sammy, no," Dean said firmly. "We'll check it out, and if what she says is true, we'll put a stop to it."

Sam turned futilely to Castiel for back-up. "Cas?"

"I am sorry, Sam," Cas said. "But I do not trust this grigori. I believe that freeing it would be a terrible mistake. I will take you and Dean to this town, and help you stop the barghests, if I can."

"Alright," Dean said. "Then it's a plan. Cas, give us ten minutes to pack some weapons, and then we'll go."

"I'll give you boys a hand," said Bobby. "I've got something you might want to take with you."

Castiel watched the Winchesters follow Bobby out of the room, then turned back to the grigori. The thing, in its blood-soaked vessel, made his own vessel's skin crawl. For millennia he had known that grigori were untrustworthy, but he'd rarely ever seen them. Very few angels, save for the arch-angels themselves, had reason to interact with the Watchers. Now, he wished he still had no reason to interact with one. Dean should have let him kill the thing whilst it was unconscious, but both boys had objected to that course of action. There was no surprise there; the grigori's vessel was an attractive and innocent young woman. Had the vessel been a toothless, warty old spinster, it was likely the boys would not have objected as much. The grigori had probably known that, and chosen its vessel accordingly, further proving that it was more than capable of manipulating those around it.

The grigori merely watched him silently, and he found himself wishing its eyes would turn back to blue. The unearthly silver colour reminded him that he, too, was not beyond the grigori's sight. The thought that it had been watching him for months was not a pleasant one.

"There is something else you should know, brother," it spoke up, in a soft, low voice.

"I'm listening."

"The barghests. Salt does not bother them, but they do not care for running water, and will ford a river only under extreme duress. If they aren't pushed into crossing it, they will try to find a way around it."

He watched the grigori warily. There was no way of telling if it was lying, though he could see no reason for it to lie about this.

"You're not even going to thank me, are you?" it asked.

"No. I don't trust you," he told it, not for the first time.

"You should. You will like me more as a friend than an enemy. Zachariah learned that the hard way."

"Cas! You ready to go?" Dean shouted down the stairs.

"Castiel," said the grigori. "You _must_ protect the boys. There is a way of stopping the apocalypse, but we will need their help to do it."

"Nothing will happen to them," he replied. Then he teleported to the Winchesters.

_- o -_


	3. Hounded by Hell

_**Fallen**_

_**Book 1: Angels, Angels, Everywhere**_

Chapter 3

_- Hounded by Hell -_

Yellow Creek was a quaint, all-American town. Star-spangled flags hung from the buildings in the town centre, blowing gently in the morning breeze. The first rays of sunlight were flooding over the area when Castiel teleported himself along with Sam and Dean to a quiet spot behind a tall wooden building. Most of the houses were wood here, Dean realised. Not the best place to fight in; wood houses burnt too easily, were harder to fortify. He would have preferred to fight in a town of stone buildings, but you rarely got the chance to pick your own battlefield. If this was what he had to work with, it was what he would work with.

"First things first," Dean said, hoisting his carryall onto his shoulder. "We find a motel, get a room. We can't carry all this stuff around with us. Then, we look around, scope out the town. The way I see it, we have two options. One, we evacuate the whole town, which is going to take a crapload of time, not to mention we need to find somewhere to put an entire town's worth of people. Or two, we make a stand. That means either fortifying the town and finding some way to keep the people in their houses, or we try to find this pack before it reaches us and put the doggies down before they can hit the town."

"I should look for the barghest pack whilst you and Sam find a motel," said Cas. "The grigori intimated we may only have a few hours before they strike."

"Wait, I thought you didn't believe her?" said Sam.

"I am simply erring on the side of caution."

"Alright," Dean agreed. "Find the pack. But _don't_ engage them. Give me a call when you've found them, and we'll give you a heads up on where we're at."

Castiel teleported away, and Dean turned to survey the street. A postman's van was already on the roads, the blue-uniformed man starting his rounds, but there were few other civilians around. It would only be an hour or so before shop-keepers started opening up for business, however, and not long after that, people would start leaving their homes, to go to work and do their shopping. It was a small miracle that today was a Saturday; at least the kids wouldn't be heading off to school en mass.

"Hey, check it out," Sam said, nodding at a nearby building. A sign over its door proclaimed it 'The Pine Lodge Motel.'

"Well, it's as good a place as any."

They made their way to the building, and Dean was pleased to see a 'vacancies' sign in the window. Opening the front door, he quickly discovered that The Pine Lodge Motel smelled, unsurprisingly, of pine trees. It wasn't a bad smell, but it was a little overpowering. He sneezed three times in rapid succession, and blinked to clear his vision.

A middle-aged man with a thick grey moustache and wearing a plaid woollen jumper was sitting behind the front desk, and he smiled when he saw his prospective customers.

"Good morning, gentlemen," he said. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, we'd like a room for one night," Dean replied.

"Smoking, or non-smoking?"

"Non-smoking," Sam said quickly. He hated the smell of cigarettes.

"With one double bed, or two singles?" the man asked, with a helpful smile.

Dean gave him what he hoped was a stony look. "Two singles."

"No offence intended. The Pine Lodge Hotel is a friendly establishment which welcomes couples no matter their... orientation."

"Good to know. But we still only want the singles."

"Very well. Room number eight. The rate is sixty dollars a night, payable on check-out. Here is your key, mister..."

"Grant. James Grant. And this is my brother, Tom."

"Welcome to Yellow Creek, gentleman," the man said, shaking both of their hands. "And I hope you do enjoy your stay."

"Thanks. Oh, by the way, you couldn't give me a rough guess on how many people live in Yellow Creek, could you?"

"Sure. About four hundred, though it's always busier during hunting season. You boys are lucky you came now, and not a week later. I'm fully booked up for weeks at a time, in hunting season."

What Dean _wanted_ to say, was _'It's always hunting season for us.'_ But he didn't, because it would have sounded weird, and illegal, and he didn't want any more complications than absolutely necessary. Instead, he said, "Thank you," and let the man get on with his day.

"Shouldn't we have gotten a room with _three_ beds?" Sam asked, as they left the motel and walked down the side of the building to look for door number eight.

"Cas doesn't sleep, and we're not staying long enough to need the beds."

"Really? You think we'll be done before night-fall?"

"I guarantee it," he replied confidently. "Shoot a few puppies full of lead and have Cas zap us back to Bobby's in time for dinner. Maybe we can even stop off along the way and pick some dinner up. At least then we won't have to suffer his 'cooking'."

When he found door eight, he slid the key into the lock and opened it up. The room wasn't large, but it was cleaner than most other motels he'd stayed in. For a start, it smelt much more... piney. The sheets looked completely unstained, too. Sometimes, he had prayed for a room like this. Perhaps this job wouldn't be too bad after all.

He dumped his bag down on the bed closest to the door—he preferred to take the bed closest to the room's entry and egress route, so that anything breaking in would encounter him before Sam—and went straight to the mini-bar. He pulled out a couple of beers, cracked one of the bottles open, and sat down in an armchair, plonking his feet onto the small coffee table.

"Dean," Sam said. He looked up at his younger brother, who'd deposited his own carryall on the second bed, and was now sitting there with _that_ look in his brown eyes. 'That' look was one which said _'I want to talk about my feelings, and probably yours too.'_ Dean hated that look. And, guessing at what was coming, he tried to deflect it with a joke.

"Liquid breakfast, Sam. You should grab one too. Shouldn't hunt on an empty stomach."

Sam shook his head. "Doesn't anything about this bother you?"

"Sure," he said, taking a long swig of the beer before elaborating. "It bothers me that I have frickin' angels wandering into my head and trying to get me to hunt for them."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Do I?"

"I know how you're feeling, because it brings it all back for me too. Jo and Ellen... you haven't even talked about them since their deaths." Sam gave his brother a sad, hopeful expression.

"There's nothing to discuss, Sam. They were hunters. They died doing their jobs. Yes, it was a tragedy. Yes, I wish I could make those demonic sons of bitches pay. But this situation is _nothing_ like that."

"We're hunting hellhounds again for the first time since that day."

"No," he said angrily. He hated the way his heart lurched at the thought of Ellen, and her daughter Jo. The women had believed in him. They, along with Sam and Cas, had followed him to where Lucifer was waiting to summon Death. When hellhounds had attacked, commanded by Meg, Jo had been mortally wounded. She and Ellen had stayed behind to take out the hellhounds, giving Sam and Dean a chance to strike at Lucifer. Two people he cared about had died because he had made bad decisions. He should never have let them join the mission. He would not make that mistake again. "We're hunting barghests. They're visible, and killable by everything we have. Do you think I'm just going to lose it, and turn this into some sort of vengeance spree? I'm here to do my job, Sam. I'm here to kill some hell-spawn puppies. Not to talk about my feelings."

Sam opened his mouth, but was cut off by a ringing sound. Dean reached into his pocket for his phone, checked the caller ID, and answered.

"I've found them," said Castiel.

"We're in room eight, the Pine Lodge Motel," Dean replied.

There was a rush of air into the room, and Cas appeared by the door. The angel pocketed his cell-phone; he was getting better at doing that. Normally he dropped it.

"What'd you see?" Dean asked him.

Cas did not look pleased. To be fair, he rarely looked pleased, but he seemed even surlier than usual when he spoke. "A pack of nine barghests. At their current speed and position, I estimate they will be here in three hours."

"That doesn't give us much time to evacuate a town," said Sam. "And not much time to try and convince people to stay in their houses."

"Hmm," Dean said thoughtfully. "We'll just have to see what we've got to work with. Sam, you scout out the lie of the land. Cas, you and I will go and speak with the local law-enforcement."

"Wouldn't I be better scouting out the land?" Cas asked. "I can get a better view."

"And do you know what you're looking for?"

"Well... land, I would assume?" the angel replied, looking confused.

"Have you ever tried to defend a town against monsters before? Do you know what kind of buildings make the best safe-houses, and which areas are best for setting up defences and traps?"

"No. But as you may recall, my abilities with law enforcement agents are somewhat lacking."

"Don't worry, I'll do all the talking."

"Dean," Sam said, "three hours isn't long enough to evacuate an entire town. There are going to be old people here. Parents with young children. Injured and sick folks."

"Then we'll evacuate as many as we can and barricade the rest in their homes. Or... Cas, we know that hellhounds will chase a target until they kill it, once they're on its trail. Will barghests do the same?"

"I do not know."

"Could you go and ask Avariel if she knows?" he asked. Cas sighed, and gave him that _'do I really have to?'_ look. "Please?"

"Very well." Cas disappeared once more.

"So, what cover are you going for?" Sam asked him. "CDC? FBI?"

"Animal control," Dean replied. "Seems there's a pack of wild, rabid dogs or coyotes heading this way."

Sam nodded. "What are you going to do about Cas? You know he doesn't have ID for that."

"Then I'll make him one." He grabbed his carryall from the bed, and took out a craft knife and a tube of glue. Then from his coat pocket he took out an empty ID wallet and a small ID-sized photograph.

"Dean," Sam said, staring at the photograph whilst looking both amused and puzzled, "why do you carry a picture of Cas in your pocket?"

"Oh. I, uh, had to make him an ID for a job we were doing, back when you and I were having our Ross and Rachel 'break' period. You're Rachel, by the way." He scoffed at Sam's expression. "Don't look at me like that. The photo booth gives you four pictures whether you want them or not. I figured the ones I didn't use might come in handy sometime. It's called forward-planning."

A breeze blew through the room, and Castiel returned.

"The grigori says she is 'fairly certain' that a barghest will relentlessly pursue its prey if it catches a scent of its blood."

"She?" Sam asked, clearly suppressing a smile.

"A slip of the tongue. I meant 'it', of course." The angel tilted his head, to look down at the ID Dean was creating. "Is that one of my pictures from—"

"Yes," Dean said, wishing Cas would just shut up. "We've just been over this." He pressed down on the ID, bonding the glue in place. "You are now Officer Steven Parry, from Colorado Animal Control."

"I see."

"Good." He stood up and clapped the angel on the shoulder. "C'mon, Officer Parry. We've got a police chief to talk to. Sam, we'll meet you back here in one hour."

o - o - o - o - o

There were voices from downstairs in the panic room. Bobby put down his glass of whisky and wheeled himself down the ramp to the cellar and opened the locks on the heavy iron door. When he entered the room, he found Avariel sitting cross-legged in the lotus position, her silver eyes open and her hands resting on her knees; the picture of innocence. It didn't fool him, of course.

"Who were you talking to?" he asked.

"Castiel," she replied. "He came back to ask a question about the barghests."

"Right. You didn't antagonise him again, did you?"

"I merely answered his question. He seemed to be in a rush, and I deemed antagonism to be... inappropriate, at this moment in time. Besides, he didn't present any opportunity for it."

"Why bother provoking him at all?"

Avariel shrugged. "I am still trying to work out what all of this means. What I am now, and where I fit in with people on Earth. Antagonism seemed to be the fastest way to learn. Besides, playing happy families would not work; none of my brothers will ever trust me, until I can earn that trust, at least."

"Uh-huh," he said, humouring her. He could tell there was a lot she wasn't saying, but it wasn't as if she was going anywhere. Besides, he suspected Sam was on the right page. He'd heard the youngest Winchester talking to the angel the other day, and by simply being curious and genuine, he had gotten her to open up and talk about her rebellion. It wasn't until Dean and Castiel had come along, with their suspicious tones and threats, that she had started to clam up. And he also remembered what she had said, about the other angels excluding her kind from their affairs because of past transgressions. He suspected she was lonely, especially now that her rebellion had been crushed and she had been banished to Earth. Perhaps it was an angle he could work. Something to make him feel a little less useless, whilst the boys were out saving the world. Again.

"What are you doing right now?" he asked.

"Channel-surfing, you might call it," she said. Just then, he noticed that every few seconds, her eyes flickered, a dark shadow passing over them for the briefest of moments before they shone silver once more. "I don't like to stick with one channel too long."

"Is that position, on the floor, comfortable for you?"

"For now," she shrugged. Then, a smile played across her lips, and he suspected it was the first genuine smile he had seen from her. "I learnt meditation techniques from Buddhist monks, several hundred years ago, but this is the first time I've been able to practice it myself. It's very peaceful. I once spent two hundred years watching an oak grow from an acorn into a tree even taller than this house. That was quite peaceful, too."

He shook his head in amazement, and realised once more just how old angels actually were. Two hundred years watching a _tree_? It wasn't easy to reconcile the ancient celestial spirit with the fresh young face of the girl she inhabited. In all the chaos of the past few days, he hadn't even considered that somewhere, behind those silver eyes, there was a human girl. A girl who probably had a family and friends who missed her.

"Does your vessel have a name?" he asked, curious about how much of the human was actually present in there.

"Kathryn Wallace. But everybody calls her Katie."

"Will you tell me about her?"

Avariel must have been surprised by the request, because her eyes faded, revealing the cornflower blue beneath the silver, and one of her eyebrows rose a little higher. Then she stood up, and smoothed the blood-stiffened dress down as best she could.

"You wish to hear about my vessel? Truly?"

"Yeah," he said. "Tell me all about her."

"Katie Wallace is twenty years old. She grew up in Wyoming, born and raised in a farmhouse on the outskirts of the local town, where she has many friends. Her parents are named Simon and Melissa, and she has two siblings; Jonathan is twelve, and Shona is fifteen. When she finished high school, she decided that she wanted to become a veterinarian." Avariel smile fondly. "I think it was that which marked her as my vessel. She attends college four days a week, and works part time at an animal shelter. She loves looking after the animals there, and can't wait until she qualifies so she can set up her own practice. Every Sunday, she and her family attend church; they are very devout, as most vessels are. Katie loves children, too. She stays behind after church as a volunteer teaching assistant in the Sunday School. She leads a good life; she does not drink or gamble or lie. In her spare time, she enjoys listening to Christian folk and Christian rock songs, and until very recently, her greatest fear was that God would consider the fact that she kissed Donny Sutherland at last year's barn dance to be a sin."

"And she was just okay with you setting up shop in her body and potentially ruining her future?"

"Yes. As I said, she is very devout. She knows that we have important work to do."

"So... how did you come to find her, and take possession of her body? You angels need permission, right?"

"That's right. Would you like to hear the story?"

Bobby looked at her for a moment. He couldn't decide whether it was the angel speaking, or the girl, or an amalgamation of the two. Dean and Sam had told him that there was a marked difference between Castiel and his vessel, Jimmy, but Bobby didn't know this girl. She was doing a much better job at blending in as human than Castiel managed—hell, she even knew what Star Wars was—but he didn't want to fool himself. It was very likely the girl was a prisoner in her own mind, with only her faith to keep her company.

"Yes. I would like to hear it," he said.

_ "Katie, your mom and I have to nip out to the shop. Would you mind watering the horses? Jon can give you a hand."_

_ "No problem, dad." Katie smiled up at him from her seat at the kitchen table. Her college books were spread across the top of it, books about the anatomy and physiology of common mammalian pets. The tomes were littered with Latin phrases, names of muscle groups, names of bones, all sorts of medical terminology. It was almost like another language, and Katie loved it. Every word sounded important and official. Every word made her feel that little bit more grown up, that little bit closer to finishing her studies._

_ "We'll be back in an hour or two," her father said, bestowing a fond smile upon her. He shared her love for animals, and had encouraged her to pursue her dreams when she was just a six year old kid running around with a toy stethoscope, trying to listen to the heartbeat of Kip, the family sheep-dog._

_ "Bye sweetie," mother called from the hallway. "Please remember to turn off the tap outside when you're done."_

_ Mom and dad left. The door closed behind them. The key turned in the ignition of the pickup truck, and the engine turned over. The sound of the car being driven gradually grew quieter. Katie put down her pen and marked her place in her textbook with her favourite bookmark; a brass marker, which held upon it the image of a dove wrought in luminescent mother of pearl._

_ She went to the bottom of the stairs, and called up to her brother. "Jon, I need you to help with the horses."_

_ "Yeah, I'll be down in a minute," he called back._

_ She smiled to herself. It wouldn't be a minute. He was reading A Tale of Two Cities, and hadn't managed to put the book down in two days. The book had once been Katie's. She had given it to her brother because she loved the story so much, and she knew he would too. She had been right._

_ The house was otherwise quiet. Shona was staying at a friend's house over the weekend. Sometimes, Katie worried about Shona. She knew that her sister was getting more interested in boys, and she rarely paid attention in church anymore, choosing instead to pass the time sending text messages to her friends from school. Katie just hoped her headstrong little sister wouldn't do anything stupid. _

_ She left the house by the back door, and walked over to the stable, which was built inside a paddock. Nipper, the skewbald gelding, whinnied when he saw her approach, but Kelpie, the bad-tempered mare, ignored her entirely. Katie didn't mind. Kelpie had always been that way; her former owners had not treated her well. A rescue animal, she had always been shy and suspicious._

_ "How's it going, guys?" she asked them. Nipper ambled over, to snuffle at her pockets. When he realised she had no treats, he turned once more to cropping the grass. Katie checked their water trough, and found it almost empty. It would take four or five buckets to fill it enough for the day._

_ She returned to the side of the house and put the large plastic bucket beneath the outside faucet. She turned the tap. Water began to pour out. It was a soothing sound, like the sound of a river on a summer's day. It made her smile. She loved the scent of the grass, the musical gushing of water, the taste of summer on the air._

_ Everything went black. Then everything went white. Up became down, and down became up. There was a sound, a terrible, mind-shattering mess of noise. Desperate, she opened her eyes and saw green, and smelt grass and earth. Then she realised why up was down, and down was up; she was lying on her front, having collapsed onto the ground. Miraculously, the sound began to fade, and she found herself able to think once more._

_ What was happening? Had she had a fit? A stroke? Never before had she experienced health problems, beyond a bout of the chicken pox as a child. Terrified, she tried to call out to Jon. If he came down to help with the horses, he would find her. He would call an ambulance, and she might be saved. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out._

_ "KATHRYN WALLACE," somebody said to her. She tried to close her eyes, to shut out the voice, which, although not as loud as the noise, was still almost more than she could bear. "DO NOT BE AFRAID, KATHRYN WALLACE. I AM AN ANGEL OF THE LORD. YOU ARE SAFE IN MY PRESENCE. ARISE FROM THE GROUND, CHILD."_

_ There was no way she could disobey the voice. She didn't know whether she was dead, dying, fitting or dreaming, but there was something in the voice which compelled her to obey. It was a voice without sound, a voice only of words, and yet it was the most beautiful and terrifying thing she had ever heard before in her life._

_ She managed to roll fully onto her stomach, and pushed herself up onto all fours. From there, she made it to her knees, and then finally staggered upright to her feet. Squinting in pain, she tried to look around, for the source of the voice. In the field, the horses were cropping the grass, showing no signs of fear or concern. Even Kelpie, who shied at her own shadow, seemed content._

_ "How... how do you know my name?" she asked the air in general._

_ "I HAVE BEEN WATCHING YOU, KATHRYN WALLACE. YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN."_

_ "Chosen for what?" She was terrified of what the answer might be, but she had to know. Around her, the green grass looked even greener than normal. The light seemed brighter, and more warming. The blue sky was a brilliant shade of azure._

_ "MY NAME IS AVARIEL. I HAVE COME TO THE EARTH TO DO THE LORD'S WORK, BUT I CANNOT ACT HERE ON MY OWN. I REQUIRE A VESSEL. A HUMAN, THE PURE SOUL OF A DEVOUT BELIEVER, THAT I CAN SHARE TO CARRY OUT MY WORK. YOU ARE MY VESSEL, KATHRYN WALLACE. YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN HELP ME TO CARRY OUT THE WILL OF GOD."_

_ "You want __**me**__ to help you do God's work?" she asked, in shock and disbelief. She believed in God, of course she did, and she believed in angels too. But she was just a girl from the farm. She wasn't anything special._

_ "YES. IT MUST BE YOU."_

_ "What sort of work would we be doing?" she asked._

_ "SAVING LIVES, MOSTLY. THE WORLD AS YOU KNOW IT WILL CHANGE. YOU WILL LEARN THAT THE MONSTERS UNDER YOUR BED ARE INDEED REAL. YOU WILL LEARN THAT NOT EVEN ANGELS CAN SAVE EVERYBODY. YOU WILL LEARN REGRETTABLE TRUTHS, BUT I WILL NEVER LIE TO YOU."_

_ "What about my family? My school work? The shelter?"_

_ "YOU MUST LEAVE THEM BEHIND."_

_ "What?! But I've never been without my family before!"_

_ "I WILL BE YOUR FAMILY, IF YOU WILL HAVE ME."_

_ "Can I talk to them about it first?" she asked._

_ "I AM SORRY, CHILD, BUT AS WE SPEAK, A BATTLE IS BEING FOUGHT. THE FATE OF THE EARTH HANGS IN A BALANCE, AND WE ARE THE ONLY ONES WHO CAN ENSURE THE BALANCE TIPS IN THE FAVOUR OF GOD, AND NOT THE DEVIL."_

_ "You want me to fight the devil?" she whimpered, her stomach and her legs feeling like jelly._

_ "NO. NOT YOU. OTHERS WILL HANDLE THAT BATTLE. BUT WE HAVE PEOPLE TO SAVE, BEFORE THEN. WE MUST PROTECT OUR CHAMPIONS."_

_ "I don't know. I mean... I want to do God's work, I really do, but I'm afraid."_

_ "YOUR FEAR IS UNDERSTANDABLE. IF YOU COME WITH ME, THEN IN TIME, YOU WILL LEARN THAT YOUR FEAR IS UNNECESSARY. I WILL BE WITH YOU, ALWAYS, AND YOU SHALL BE WITH ME. I WILL PROTECT YOU AS BEST I CAN."_

_ "Can I at least say goodbye to my family?" she asked, and a single tear spilled down from her eye, rolling down her cheek._

_ "I AM SORRY, CHILD. TIME IS OF THE ESSENCE. I FEAR I HAVE ALREADY COME TOO LATE. I AM SORRY TO PUT THIS DECISION ON YOU SO SWIFTLY. I CANNOT, AND WOULD NOT, FORCE THIS CHOICE ON TO YOU. I CAN GIVE YOU THIRTY MORE SECONDS TO MAKE UP YOUR MIND. AFTER THAT, YOU WILL NOT HEAR FROM ME AGAIN."_

_ Katie took a deep breath, and wiped away the tear from her cheek. To give up everything she had, on the word of a stranger inside her head, was almost preposterous. But wasn't that why they called it 'a leap of faith'? Could she sit in church and claim to be faithful, yet decline one of God's angels in his hour of need? What would God think of such an action? Would he consider it to be a sin? And how could she live with herself, if this battle that Avariel spoke of went the wrong way, all because she refused to help him? She was no fool; she knew what it meant, if angels were battling the forces of the devil. If the angels lost—could they even lose such a battle?—what would become of her family, of her brother and sister, of the farm and the horses, of the church and the children who went to Sunday school every week? It was a risk she could not take. It was not something she could live with._

_ "I will come with you, Avariel," she said. "I will be your vessel."_

_ A warmth flooded her body. It was the most amazing sensation she had ever felt. In that moment, she experienced the love of the angel, she felt how much it cared for her, like a parent caring for its child. So strong was the power that it almost overwhelmed her. Then, she realised she had work to do. Two men and an angel needed saving. She teleported._

_ The fields around the house were devoid of human life. In the paddock, the horses calmly grazed the grass. And the water bucket began to overflow, as water poured out of the untended tap._

Bobby was stunned to silence. The picture she painted was so vivid that he could actually see himself there, watching it all as a silent witness. At last, however, he found his tongue.

"So you just showed up, gave her a five-minute ultimatum, and took her away from her family without even letting her say goodbye?"

"It was not a matter of what I wanted, but what I _needed_," the angel replied. "Had I given her even a minute longer, Sam would have been dead, and Dean and Castiel would have been forever beyond my reach. Of course I regret the action I had to take, but I acted out of desperation, not malice. And it's not as if Castiel gave me time to return to Katie's family, before whisking me here."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. I'm glad you were there to save the boys. Do you maybe want me to send a letter to your family, explaining that you're safe?"

"Thank you, but that has been taken care of," she said calmly.

"What do you mean?"

"I appeared to them in their dreams, and told them I was doing God's work. That an angel was watching over me, protecting me, and that they didn't have to worry. And other various clichéd pleasantries, of course."

"And you think they'll just believe you?"

"Well, I gave them all the same dream. So they'll either believe me, or believe they're suffering from a mass hallucination."

He shook his head sadly. "Y'know, you angels can be damn cold at times."

"Yes, I am aware of that," she replied. "It's not our fault. It's just how our Father created us. For what it's worth, I'm working on it."

"I don't even want to know what that means," he said. No doubt he'd find out when Dean freed her. _If_ he freed her. "Listen, do you need anything in there? Food? Water? A cushion?"

"I have no physical needs which require attention right now," she assured him. "I require no sustenance, nor comfort, nor sleep."

"Good for you," he said sarcastically. Of course, he was by now familiar enough with angels that he knew they needed no physical comforts and no source of nourishment, but he'd hoped to appeal to the girl within her. "Well, let me know if you need anything. I'll leave you to your channel surfing, and get back to worrying about those idjit boys."

"Bobby," she said, as he was preparing to leave. "Thank you, for being concerned about my vessel. Not many people would see that I am more than just an angel. But you did. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome."

He rolled his chair back upstairs, his mind full of thoughts. He'd actually managed to make some progress with Avariel, assuming he could actually believe a word she said. He did believe, at least some of the things, but he still didn't trust her fully. For all he knew, she'd sent the boys off on some wild goose chase, and was potentially working with the arch-angels to find Dean. For now he would err on the side of caution, and hope that the boys, and their angel friend, knew what they were doing.

o - o - o - o - o

Dean led the way down the street, taking in the view as he walked. Yellow Creek seemed to be one of those nice little towns where everybody knew each other and looked out for each other. Anonymity was a hard thing to find, in a place like this, which made investigating the supernatural a little easier, because the people tended to know about the skeletons in each others' closets, but at the same time it made investigations more difficult too, because in small communities, the skeleton in one closest was everybody's problem.

He'd been given directions to the police station, and Castiel was following complacently behind. Dean had no idea what the angel's vessel had done for work before letting Cas move in, but at least the long tan-coloured trench coat over the suit was good for occasions like this. Dean had forgotten to bring his own suit, but since he was going to be passing as an Animal Control officer, it didn't particularly matter.

"How do you intend to convince the Sheriff that the entire town needs to be evacuated in less than two hours?" Castiel asked quietly.

"I don't know," he said. Why did everybody seem to think that he had some sort of plan? He had no plan. He had his gun, and his boyish charm, and those were normally enough to get by on. When they weren't, he threw some stubborn bravado into the mix, and usually came out of it unscathed... for the most part.

Now, things were different. Plans had never been his strong point, but he had tried to make them, in the past. But that was when he'd been up against things he actually had a hair's chance of beating. Ghosts, vampires, wendigo, Azazel, zombies, Lilith... Looking back, he could appreciate the simplicity in planning against those things. Now, he was up against Lucifer, trapped in the middle of a war between two brothers who would probably torch the Earth just to get their own way. How could you make plans against that? What was the point of even trying?

The police office loomed into view, and Dean made a beeline for it. He had a love-hate relationship with law enforcement. He understood their necessity; they kept the peace and helped the folks who had nothing more to worry about than theft or domestic violence of the non-demonic kind. But they were also a pain in the ass to deal with if you happened to be a monster hunter by trade. The job required you to do things which normal people found offensive. Digging up graves, burning bodies, killing things that could wear a human face, not to mention all the standard white-collar crimes like fraud and impersonating a government official.

He climbed up the wooden steps to the building and opened the door. There was a deputy on duty at the front desk, a fresh-faced kid still naïve enough to be wearing his hat indoors. The boy looked up from the desk when the door opened, and Dean reached into his pocket for his ID.

"Officer James Grant, Colorado Animal Control," he said, flashing the ID for the deputy to see. "This is my partner, Officer Steven Parry." Miraculously, Castiel held up his ID the right way around. "We'd like to speak to your chief. It's important."

"Ahh, yes, of course Officers. I'll take you right through." The boy stood up and gestured for them to follow him past the desk, and to a door which held a brass 'Police Chief' plaque. Judging by the size of the building, the chief and the deputy were probably the only police in the town. He guessed Yellow Creek didn't have a big problem with crime.

The deputy knocked on the door, and opened it to stick his head through.

"Chief Waters, I have two men from Colorado Animal Control here to see you," he said.

"Show them in, Deputy."

Dean's eyebrows rose in surprise. The voice belonged to a woman, though there was nothing wrong with that of course. Women made fine law enforcement officers... he just didn't see very many of them. Too hard to juggle family life with the job role, he guessed.

The Deputy stepped aside allowing Dean and Cas to enter the room before leaving and closing the door behind them. The chief was not what he had been expecting. For a start, she was attractive. Very attractive. Her long blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail and her uniform hugged her figure closely. The woman really knew how to make the look work for her.

"Chief Claire Waters," she said, standing and offering both men her hand. Dean shook it and gave her a warm smile, whilst Castiel merely shook it and stared in silence. Dean _really_ needed to work on the angel's people skills.

"Officers Grant and Parry, Colorado Animal Control," Dean said.

"What can I do for you?" she asked.

For a moment, Dean forgot how to speak. The Chief's brown eyes just... sucked him in. God, she was a beautiful woman. And it was only when Castiel nudged him under the desk with his foot that he remembered he was here to avert a catastrophe.

"Chief Waters," he said, "we have been tracking a pack of rabid wild dogs for the past few days, and I'm afraid to say that it appears they're on their way here. They seem to be drawn to populated areas, possibly because of how easy it is to find food lying around. We're concerned that the dogs might attack anybody they see."

"Well then, it's a good job Animal Control officers are here to put a stop to them, isn't it?" she said with a smile. Dean repressed the urge to groan. She was going to be one of _those_ women. He could tell.

"Yes it is," he agreed, keeping the smile on his face. "But in order to stop them, we're going to need to either evacuate the town, or ask people to stay in their homes for the day. We can't risk anybody being attacked."

"Evacuate the town? Don't you think that's an overreaction? They're just dogs."

"Rabid wild dogs," he corrected.

Waters leant back in her chair, and ran her eyes over both men. This was not a good sign. Dean tried to look as official and not-guilty as he possibly could.

"Are you sure it's rabies they have?" she asked at last.

"Pretty sure, yeah. Why?"

"Because dogs with rabies rarely survive for more than a few days. And when they turn violent, they don't keep their social tendencies. They attack anything and everything around them... including other dogs."

Dean closed his eyes briefly, and tried to think of a way out of this. It was just his damn luck that he had to deal with an actual intelligent officer.

"Look," he said, meeting her eyes once more, "we're not a hundred percent sure that they're rabid, but we don't want to take any chances. They've already ripped up a flock of sheep a couple of towns over, and they don't show any fear of coming into human settlements. How'd you know so much about rabies, anyway?"

"My first husband was a vet," she said. "Look, officers, I'm not going to evacuate the town. Not unless the devil himself is sitting on our doorstep."

_You have no idea_, Dean thought to himself. This conversation was not going the way he had hoped, but he could hardly blame the Chief. She didn't know that monsters were real, and he couldn't tell her that what was approaching the village was not a pack of rabid dogs, but a pack of demonic hellhound rejects. The only way she would believe him was if she saw them for herself. Unfortunately, 'normal' people had a habit of reacting badly when they discovered that monsters were real, and right now, he needed the woman to be clear-thinking, not a gibbering wreck.

"Look," Waters continued, "I know you guys are just here to do your job, and I'm not trying to make it any harder for you. Tell you what, Pete and I will do the rounds, ask people to keep themselves and their kids indoors for a few hours, ask shopkeepers to close until after lunch, and try to keep folks off the street. I can round up a dozen local men who are more than handy with a rifle, and if we see rabid dogs, we'll shoot to kill. But I can't ask the entire town to put their lives on hold for this."

"Yeah," he said, "that sounds like a good plan. Thanks, Chief. My partner and I are going to head out to see what the dogs are up to, maybe look at setting a few traps for them, but if you could organise all of that, we'd really appreciate it."

"Just... try to keep things calm, alright? I don't need a mass panic on my hands."

"Will do."

She glanced at Cas. "Your partner is awfully quiet."

"I'm new," Cas said, which seemed to satisfy the Sheriff.

"By the way, Chief Waters," Dean said, as something sprang to mind, "I was wondering if I could ask you for a favour."

"Ask away, but I make no promises."

"Our vehicle's blown a head gasket, and I don't have time to get it fixed right now. Is there any chance we could borrow one of your cars?"

"As long as I get it back in one piece," she agreed. "Tell Pete to give you the key for the jeep."

"Thanks for your help."

He stood up and shook her hand again, and prompted Cas to do the same.

"Good luck, officers," she said.

At the front desk, Deputy Pete Jones had gone back to completing paperwork. This time, he didn't glance up when he heard Dean and Cas approach.

"So, you need the keys for the jeep, huh?" he said. Then he looked at Dean and smiled. "Thin walls in here. Is there really a pack of wild dogs on its way to town?"

"Yeah," Dean replied, holding his hand out for the keys.

Pete reached into his desk drawer, took out a key on a keyring, and dropped it into Dean's hand. "I hope you manage to stop them before they get here. Of course, the Chief and I will do all we can. You don't have to worry about the town, we have a lot of good hunters call this place home."

"That's very reassuring."

"The jeep's in the lot out back. Just bring the key back when you're done with her, okay?"

"Roger that," he said, with a mock salute for the kid.

The jeep was not hard to find, because it was the only one in the car park. Green and white, fitted with high-intensity lights, it looked to have seen recent action; the wheels and the bottom of the chassis were covered in mud that hadn't quite dried yet. Dean patted the vehicle, opened the driver's side door, and climbed in.

"Dean," said Castiel, a confused expression on his face, "I do not understand. Why did you encourage the police chief to ask some of the townsfolk to participate in this hunt? They will not understand what they see; the barghests do not look like normal dogs."

"Ah, she was going to do it anyway whether I wanted her to or not." He turned the key in the ignition and the engine roared to life. God, how he loved that sound. Nothing compared to the roar of the Impala's engine, of course, but his baby was sitting outside Bobby's house right now. The jeep would have to suffice.

"So... we are going to allow the barghest pack into the town, where they can be shot from many angles?"

He shook his head. "No, fighting in the town was Plan A, and I'd rather not let it get that far. Now, we go on to Plan B."

"And what is Plan B?"

"I'm working on it. But first I need to check in with Sam, see what he's got for us. Let's get back to the motel."

o - o - o - o - o

Sam glanced at his watch as he walked down the main street of the town. He was starting to see more and more cars out on the road, and a dozen shops were now open for business. Good news for a hungry hunter looking for local intel, bad news for a hunter wanting to keep everybody indoors and alive during the next twelve hours.

The townspeople were all friendly and helpful. They answered his questions openly and volunteered information they thought might be of use. He suspected they thought he was a game hunter, come early to the town to scope out the land and get a head start on the other hunters. He didn't try to dissuade them from that notion. The less they truly knew, the better off they would be. Unfortunately, Sam didn't always have the luxury of leaving people ignorant. Sometimes he was forced to show them his world, and when that happened, things tended to get messy.

That was one of the reasons why he was doomed to be alone, except for his brother, and other hunters like Bobby, and their allies like Castiel. Hunters could only share their lives with other hunters. To bring civilians into it, to expose them to that danger... it was just too big a risk. Too many people had already been injured or killed because Sam had selfishly thought he could have some semblance of a normal life.

His mother had been the first to die, but that was not his fault, nor his father's. The blame lay solely with the yellow-eyed demon... no, the yellow-eyed fallen angel, he reminded himself... Azazel. And, by extension, Azazel's master; Lucifer. For years, seeking revenge against the demons who had toyed with his life had been the only thing he lived for. After Jessica's death, he had rejoined Dean on the hunt for both their father and the demon they had known only as Yellow-Eyes, and whilst for Dean finding dad had been the priority, it was the other way around for Sam. His father was the means to an end, a way of finding the demonic son of a bitch, a way of enabling revenge.

Lilith had been the next demon on the vengeance list. The oldest demon of them all, the first human soul to be corrupted and turned by Lucifer. She had been immensely powerful, and Sam had killed her whilst hopped up on demon blood. But her death had not been the victory he had hoped for. Unbeknownst to him, Lilith was the last Seal on Lucifer's prison. Killing her had opened the gate, allowing the devil to walk the Earth once more. Dean had tried to stop him. Castiel had died to buy the eldest Winchester more time. And Sam had ignored them both, choosing instead to follow Ruby, who had ultimately betrayed them all.

He knew he was out of chances. There were only so many times a man could redeem himself, and Sam was no ordinary man. He was the one who had freed Lucifer from his millennia-long prison. He had chosen a demon over his own brother, thrown Bobby's help back in his face, and ignored Castiel's attempts to put him back on the right path. Now, he could afford no more mistakes. He could not ever say 'yes' to being Lucifer's vessel, because there would be no coming back from that.

He set off back to the motel, a bag of supplies in hand. Time was swiftly running out. It was strange, but there were periods when he had an abundance of time, with nothing to do except sit in the Impala with Dean and drive from place to place. It contrasted sharply with the periods when he had no time at all, when every second counted and lives depended upon working against a clock. It was a shame that he couldn't shift some of the wasted time to moments when it was most required, and not for the first time did he wonder why angels didn't exploit time-travel more often. Why didn't they just go back in time and stop Lucifer and the other grigori from falling? Why didn't they go back and stop the devil from corrupting Lilith, thereby creating demons? It wasn't as if they lacked the power; Castiel had once sent Dean back to the moment when Azazel had first met their mother, and more recently he had taken both Sam and Dean back to 1978, so they could thwart the plans of the fallen angel Anna. When asked, Cas merely said that there were rules against changing the course of history, but he wouldn't go into any detail about what those rules actually were. He simply said that what was done, was done, and changing things could have terrible repercussions. How those repercussions could be more terrible than the apocalypse, Sam did not know.

A police jeep was parked outside the motel, and Sam gave a mental groan. This could _not_ be a good sign. Dean had no respect for authority figures, and if he had already gotten into trouble, it did not bode well for the mission. He hurried to the door and knocked on it, since Dean had the key with him.

When Dean opened the door, he was surprised to find his brother alone, other than Castiel. Stepping inside the room, he briefly scanned around for signs of a pissed-off police officer, but found none.

"Why's there a police car parked out front?" he asked his brother.

"Oh, that. It's ours for the moment. I've borrowed it."

"_Borrowed_?" Sam asked pointedly.

Dean pulled a key from his pocket, and jingled it on the ring. "Legitimately. Police Chief Barbie agreed to lend it for a few hours. I'm just glad it's not pink."

"Dean," said Castiel, "the Chief's name was Waters, not Barbie."

Dean gave Sam a long-suffering look, and closed the door behind him. "What have you got, Sammy?"

"A proper breakfast, for a start," he replied, taking out a packet of chips and tossing them to his brother. Dean grinned and opened them up. "And this. Courtesy of the local camping store." He took a map out of the bag and removed the bindings, opening it up and lying it flat on the coffee table.

"Great," Dean said, clapping his hands and taking a seat. "What are our defences looking like?"

"Not good," Sam replied. "The whole town's surrounded by forest on three sides." He gestured at the green areas of the map; they were quite extensive. "The buildings are pretty spread out. We've got an elementary school over on the east side, a doctor's surgery on the west, and most of the stores in the centre. Houses are pretty much all around, which means wherever the barghest come from, they're going to hit residential areas first."

Dean nodded. "The Chief and her Deputy are going to muster themselves a posse of local marksmen, and advise everybody to stay indoors for a few hours, but something tells me they're not going to be in a rush to do it. These people aren't going to be in any position to fight, and we have less than two hours to go."

"Sam," said Castiel, approaching and looking at the map, "you said the town is surrounded by forest on three sides. What is on the other side?"

"Over here, to the west," he replied, "is a deep gorge. A bridge spans it, but it's only wide enough for one car to pass at a time."

"Is there a river at the bottom of this gorge?"

"Yeah. Not a wide one, though. Barely more than a fast-flowing stream, really." Castiel's eyes took on a thoughtful cast, which immediately made Sam curious. "Why do you ask?"

"Avariel told me that the barghest will not cross flowing water unless forced into it. We could use this to our advantage. If the townspeople can be convinced to evacuate, we could take them across the river. They should be safe, there."

"Cas, does that mean the barghest won't even cross a bridge that spans a river? Maybe it just means they won't go into the river itself."

"I do not know. But it is the best chance we have."

"Maybe," said Dean. Sam looked at his brother, who was studying the map. "Look at this road. It forks about a mile out of town. One road leads here, and the other goes north." Dean ran his finger along the coloured line which indicated the road. "It travels north for almost three miles, then cuts west, where it crosses a second bridge further upstream."

"Yeah," Sam said, "but there's no town upstream. Nothing to entice a pack of hungry barghest."

"Nothing _yet_," Dean said. He was smiling, now, the same smile he always wore when he had some crazy, suicidal plan. "But I'm willing to bet that a bleeding target will get their attention pretty quick."

"Dean, no," he said, realising what his brother was planning. "That is a terrible idea."

"Which is what makes it so great. Minimum risk to the town. Do you have something better?"

Sam shook his head. He should have seen this coming. Dean had obviously been considering it since he had sent Cas back to ask Avariel about the barghest reaction to blood.

"You intend to draw the barghest away from the town by setting them on your own trail?" Castiel asked, catching up to the rest of the group.

"Why not? We got a car, we got a river, and I got plenty of blood. If I can get them to that bridge upstream, and they can't cross it, the two of you can be lying in wait and we can pin them in place. It'll be like shooting fish in a barrel."

"Dangerous, relentless blood-thirsty fish with teeth," Sam reminded him. Dean waved on hand dismissively.

"Dean," said Cas, "I believe this plan could work. Avariel must have seen the river, and known that we could use it to our advantage."

"Oh, so _now_ he trusts her," Dean said rolling his eyes.

"I do not trust the grigori, but I do trust _you_. If you wish to carry out this plan, I will help you."

"Thanks for the support, Cas. Well, Sam? What's it going to be?"

Sam sighed. One day, one of these crazy plans was going to be the death of Dean. Again. But for now, he had to admit that he had nothing better.

"Alright," he said. "I'm in. But I get to use the flame-thrower."

o - o - o - o - o

Dean stood at the fork in the road, his belt-knife held in one hand. He wasn't entirely comfortable with being here, and it had nothing to do with the pack of crazed hell-beasts swiftly bearing down on his position. It had more to do with the fact that he had come to loathe crossroads. They were places where deals with demons were made, and whilst this fork wasn't, strictly speaking, a crossroads, it was close enough to make him feel uncomfortable. He had sold his own soul at a crossroads, over two years ago now, and since then his life had not been his own. It was the life of somebody who had been plucked from Hell, put back on the Earth, and told he was doing the work of God. The life of somebody who was nothing but a puppet on strings to the higher powers. Castiel should have left him to rot in the Pit.

A gentle breeze blowing through the air heralded his friend's arrival, but Dean didn't turn around to look at the angel.

"Is Sam ready?" he asked.

"Yes," said Cas.

"You should get into position, too."

"When the time is right, I will be in my designated position," Castiel replied calmly. "For now, I will stay with you. Call it moral support, if you like."

Dean nodded absently. He was glad he wouldn't have to do this alone. Despite what he had told Sam, the thought of facing off against hellhounds again made his insides turn cold. It was hellhounds that had ended his life, ripping his body to shreds so his soul could be collected by demons. It was hellhounds who had torn up Jo, causing the beautiful young woman to die a slow and painful death. She'd been little more than a kid, with so much left to live for. Now, she would never get that chance. He just hoped that, wherever she was, she was happy.

"How long until the pack arrives?" he asked, swallowing down his fear, pushing it away.

"A few minutes at most," Castiel replied. "Dean, are you sure you do not want me to do this instead? I can bleed and you can drive. It's more than fair."

Dean smiled briefly. Cas was like the little kid who wasn't afraid of anything. Mostly, it was because he was a powerful celestial being who, up until recently, was able to smite demons at a touch, travel through time on a whim, and could put a grown man to sleep with nothing but a tap of his finger. It probably also helped that angels didn't feel emotions as easily as humans did. They were capable of it—he had seen first hand just how capable they were—but when they wanted, they could put emotion aside and ignore their doubts and their fears. Even faced with death, Castiel had shown no fear. So far, he was doing a lot better at being strong than Dean.

"Thanks for the offer," he replied. "But I'm not having those bastards going after anybody but me."

"Very well," Cas replied. Dean knew that Cas understood; hellhounds had killed Jo because she had tried to defend him. He wasn't going to watch another friend die for him. And he was grateful that Cas didn't try to talk about it. He wasn't quite ready to face his demons yet.

Taking a deep breath, he used the knife to cut into his arm, and blood immediately began to drip onto the ground. It would bleed, a lot, but he couldn't afford a cut to his hand; he needed his hands to drive, and to fire his gun when he finally stopped the car.

The blood worked quickly. For one minute, the _drip drip drip_ of the red fluid on the ground was the only sound he could hear. Even the birds were silent. Then, there was crashing through the undergrowth which surrounded the road on both sides. Dark forms appeared from the trees, and for the first time, Dean wished the barghest _were_ invisible. They were red-eyed black dogs, larger than Shetland ponies. Their claw-tipped paws were huge, and each hound was salivating as they watched his blood with malicious intent.

"Dean," Castiel said, "it's time to go."

"Come and get me, you bastards," Dean growled at the dogs. Then he turned and ran to the jeep, slamming the door closed behind him. Castiel followed, teleporting directly into the vehicle. In the rear view mirror, Dean saw the dogs surge forward, and he pushed his foot down hard on the gas pedal, flooring it as he released the hand-brake.

The engine screamed and the jeep shot forward, shuddering for a moment with the momentum. Thirty miles per hour, the speedometer read, and when he glanced in the mirror, he saw the dogs keeping pace. In fact, they weren't just keeping pace, they were _gaining_. Dean increased the jeep's speed to fifty. The bloody things were fast! He said as much to Cas.

"Yes, they are strong and fast, and do not tire," the angel reiterated. "They were pacing themselves to get to the village, travelling at a comfortable speed, but now that they have smelt blood, they will chase their prey in a frenzy of speed and violence until they kill it."

"Thanks for the visuals, Cas," he growled. He wasn't angry with his friend, but his arm was stinging, which irked him.

"I'm sorry," Cas replied. "I was doing that thing again, where I state the obvious, wasn't I?"

"Yeah, just a little."

"I will try to restrain myself in future."

"Great, thanks." He looked again in the mirror, but could see nothing. "Damn it. Where have those barghest gotten to? We haven't lost them, have we?"

"I don't think so," said Castiel. He was looking out of the side window, into the forest. "I see movement in the trees."

"What, they've caught up to us?"

"They are in fact over-taking us. I suggest you increase the speed of this vehicle."

"Alright, but it's a jeep, not a ferrari. I don't think we can expect miracles."

He increased the speed to seventy. No animal could travel this fast. But then again, the barghest were not ordinary animals. Descendents of Hell, they probably had all sorts of freaky abilities, and he suspected the ability to out-run a jeep was just one of them. He hoped to God that Avariel was right, and they could be killed with standard weapons, otherwise the three of them were royally screwed.

"Alright, Cas," he said, as the road began to veer left, "it's time for you to go. Get into position and be ready."

"I will see you soon, Dean," Cas said. "Do not slow down."

One gentle breeze later, and Cas was gone. Dean followed the angel's advice. He slowed down only to make a sharp left turn, then put the pedal to the metal once more. He would have given anything to be in his beloved Impala, right now. The jeep was cumbersome and slow, built for traversing difficult terrain, not for going fast on tarmac. But beggars could not be choosers, and the jeep was all he had. At least it would offer him some small physical protection, if the barghest caught up before he reached the river.

At last the bridge came into view. He felt as if it had taken him an eternity to get this far, though he had been driving for only a few minutes. All he had to do was make it across the bridge, and he would be home free. He just prayed that there was no car coming in the opposite direction. A head on collision was the last thing he needed right now.

The forest thinned as the road approached the bridge, and when he glanced in his mirrors he saw the barghest on the road once more. Suddenly, something rocked the jeep, and in his left wing-mirror he saw one of the beasts snapping at the wheel arches.

_What the hell?_

How could they know that to cripple the jeep, all they had to do was blow out the tires? They couldn't be _that_ smart, could they? His heart began pounding in his chest, and he mentally urged the jeep to go faster. If he blew out a tire at this speed, he would probably die. But if he didn't get across the bridge, he would probably die. He knew, now, that he had underestimated the barghest. If they had managed to figure out that the tires were what kept the car moving, then they would have been able to figure out how to get into locked houses. The townsfolk, shut in their homes, would have been nothing but corralled sheep to these beasts.

The moment the car drove onto the narrow stone bridge, Dean gave a deep sigh of relief. The barghest had fallen back now, four of them watching in frustration from the start of the bridge. Where the other five were he did not know, but it seemed Avariel had been right. The barghest were not going to cross the path of flowing water. Now all he had to do was get the jeep to the other side, and get back to help Sam and Cas put these evil puppies down.

When he was safely across the gorge, he parked the jeep across the bridge exit, to prevent any innocent motorist straying onto the battlefield, and grabbed his rifle from the back seat. Even as he left the vehicle, he could hear the sounds of fighting. There were growls of anger and whines of pain. Every few seconds a plume of orange fire roared into the air, and the smell of burning flesh reached his nose. When he was halfway across the bridge, he finally got a view of what was happening. Sam had circled around the pack, and was using the flame-thrower Bobby had lent them to keep the dogs at bay. They seemed to fear the fire even more than they feared the angel who slashed at them with his celestial blade. Caught between a rock and a hard place, the barghest seemed almost at a loss. Three canine bodies already littered the floor, in pools of their own blood.

As soon as he was close enough, Dean lifted his rifle and began shooting at the dogs, taking care not to fire near his friend or his brother. One of the barghest fell to his shots, but then the beasts seemed to realise that he had returned. Every one of the remaining pack turned their faces to him, and they surged forwards. They ignored Castiel, who was standing between them and the bridge, flowing around him, out of reach of his blade. When the first barghest stepped onto the bridge, Dean realised how screwed his was. Apparently, crossing a path of flowing water to reach their bleeding prey was easier for them to do when they were driven to it by a man roasting them alive with a flame-thrower and an angel slashing at them with a celestial sword.

He began firing again as the barghest approached. He managed to take down one, but the remaining four simply increased their speed. His gun sounded with grim finality; _blam blam blam_, and still the dogs came. Several feat away from him, the lead hound leapt like a cat, sailing through the air towards him, its froth-covered jaws opened wide enough to crush his head.

The world spun very briefly, and suddenly he was no longer on the bridge, but back on the road, standing behind Sam. He felt a hand lifted from his shoulder, and turned to see Castiel beside him. Breathing rapidly, he gave the angel his most appreciative look, and took a long, slow steadying breath. The barghest realised that their prey was no longer in front of them. They turned and ran back, straight into the jaws of death. Sam took two out with the flame-thrower, Castiel stabbed one through the heart with his sword, and the other fell to Dean's rifle. When the last body stopped twitching, he finally relaxed, feeling the tension seep out of his muscles.

Together, the three comrades walked amongst the fallen beasts. There was no sign of life from any of them, but that didn't mean they would stay dead. Demonic things had a nasty habit of coming back when you least expected them. To make sure the dogs stayed down, they would have to dispose of the bodies thoroughly. Fortunately, they had just the tool for it. Once the corpses had been piled by the side of the road, Sam turned the flamethrower onto them, filling the air with the scent of charred meat. When the deed was done, they stood back to survey the smoldering pile.

"Those were some nasty sons of bitches," Dean offered at last.

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I can't say I'm in a hurry to do that again."

"I hate to say it, but maybe Ava was right."

"Ava?"

"Avariel."

"So... now we're nick-naming the Angel you don't trust?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. "It's just faster to say. But... what if she was telling the truth? What if she really does want to help us? If she saw this, imagine what else she could see. Right now, we're flying blind, just hoping that anything we do has an impact. She could tell us where to strike, not just to save lives, but to hurt Lucifer. Really hurt him, I mean."

"Dean," said Castiel, turning to face him, "I stand by what I told you when we first brought Avariel back to Bobby's. The grigori cannot be trusted. We should have nothing more to do with it. It will eventually betray us all. Please, do not be taken in by its appearance, or its claims that it wants to help. Nothing good can come from listening to it."

"What about this?" Sam said, gesturing at the burning pile of canine corpses. "We just saved a town. Maybe that doesn't mean much to you, but to us, it's four hundred lives. And that's on top of our lives, which she already saved by chasing off Zachariah."

Cas shook his head in defeat. "You see what the grigori wants you to see, Sam. My words of caution are wasted here, so I will offer no more. All I wish to do is stop you... both of you... from making a terrible mistake. If you will not listen, then there is nothing more I can do."

"We're not freeing her, Cas," Dean assured his friend. "I'm just saying... maybe it wouldn't be so bad if we kept her in that circle and let her believe that she can earn our trust. We can use her to help save people, and possibly learn more about Lucifer's actions."

"You should return the vehicle to the Police department," Cas said, turning away and looking at the jeep. "Our work here is done. I will meet you back at the motel."

Cas disappeared in a breeze of air, and Dean sighed. He knew that his friend wasn't pleased, but what else could he do? Avariel had saved their lives and said she wanted to help them. She had told them truths nobody else had, and warned them about the barghest in time to avert a tragedy. He didn't trust her, because Cas didn't trust her, but he had to admit that she might come in useful. How could he dispose of such a tool, if it could help him to stop Lucifer?

"Come on," he said to Sam. "Let's get out of here."

He turned towards the bridge, and trusted that his brother would follow. He wasn't looking forward to seeing Avariel again. Sooner or later, he would have to decide what to do with her. And whichever way he decided, somebody was going to be hurt.

_- o -_


	4. Oathsworn

_**Fallen**_

_**Book 1: Angels, Angels, Everywhere**_

Chapter 4

_- Oathsworn -_

Bobby sat in his wheelchair in the panic-room, watching the angel trapped within the circle of fire. She was sitting cross-legged once more, her eyes flickering silver as she 'channel surfed.' The boys had returned with Cas the day before, and Bobby had listened to their recount of what had happened at Yellow Creek. He'd then told them what Avariel had told him, about her vessel and how she had come to possess it.

Tensions had been high. Castiel had disappeared after that, claiming he needed to be elsewhere, and when another hunter had called Bobby with a report of demonic activity in Wisconsin, the boys had volunteered to go and check it out. None of them had come to see Avariel, and she hadn't asked to see them, either. She had been silent for the past twenty four hours, and merely sat there watching the world go by.

"Is there anything interesting going on out there?" he asked her.

Her posture did not change in the slightest, nor did her eyes. "Too much, I'm afraid. Would you like to hear about the saddest thing I have witnessed this day?"

He suspected he wouldn't like to hear it, but he was trying to get her to open up more. "Alright," he agreed.

"A species of orchid just went extinct in Brazil. It had yet to be discovered by humans, and so it had no name. It was rare, and beautiful, and it could have cured cancer, in the right hands. But it stood in the way of progress. In six months, cattle will roam the bare grassy earth where once lived one of this planet's treasures. And, because it is gone, a species of insect which was reliant upon its nectar will die too. This will negatively affect the numbers of local birds which fed upon the insect, and the species will decline. The thing about food webs is that you cannot remove one thing without affecting others. Sometimes, the removal of one species begins a chain reaction. And this is not the first time it has happened."

"Maybe we'll find another way to cure cancer," he offered.

Avariel turned her silver eyes to his face, and he could tell she was not pleased.

"You know, there are times when I feel that perhaps Lucifer was right. All your species does is wantonly destroy. You are such selfish children that you cannot even conceive the harm you are doing to this planet. How many species would flourish, I wonder, if humans were removed from the equation? Nature has balances, you know. One species of animal or plant would never destroy another completely, because nature is inherently symbiotic. Humans are the exception to this rule. A flower, no matter how pretty, has no use to you if it is in your way. So you destroy it, and condemn not only yourselves, but countless other species. For this, for making me feel... sympathy... for Lucifer, I hate you. All of you. And yet I will continue to defend you, because it was the will of my Father, and I have to believe that he has some grand plan for you."

Bobby was shocked. All Avariel had done so far was to speak of how she admired and loved humanity. To hear a different tune from her was surprising, to say the least. It made him wonder whether she was being at all honest with him, or whether she had only been telling him what he wanted to hear. He decided to play along, to see what else he could get out of her.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to imply that other species are unimportant."

"I forgive you," she said. "It is not your fault. You cannot help what is in your nature, just as we cannot help what is in our nature. My Father must have created us all as we are for some greater purpose. To us, he gave knowledge, but left little room for change and growth. To you he gave ignorance, perhaps hoping that you would learn to find your own way. Limited as you are, you cannot perceive the world as I do. Maybe that is why I am here. Maybe it is my job to teach you. I just wish I knew what God wanted of me."

"Are you okay?" he asked, suddenly concerned. Her moods tended to shift quickly; sometimes she was like a child, eager to tell him stories, eager to answer his questions. Sometimes she was like a young woman, aware of her own appeal, showing a willingness for manipulation. Sometimes she seemed to revel in antagonising others, in mockery and humour. But he had never seen her waxing philosophical before. He'd never heard her offering sympathy for the devil, or questioning why God had created humans. He'd never heard her doubt herself, or her Father's plan for the world.

"No, I am not okay," she said sharply. "My friends, my family, are all dead. My vessel has emotions that I do not know how to cope with, and I am stuck in this circle, impotently watching whilst people die, whilst species go extinct, and whilst Lucifer steps ever closer to his apocalypse. All I wanted to do was come to Earth and help people. To know what it is like to walk amongst you. To give my life to protect my Father's work. I would be better off dead, than trapped in this prison, tortured by the knowledge that the Earth is going to Hell and there is nothing I can do but Watch. Grigori died for this. It isn't fair."

"Welcome to life," he said. He knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn't help it. "Do you know what isn't fair? Me being stuck in this chair, whilst my friends risk their lives. I would give _anything_ to be out there, helping them, fighting demons and monsters, protecting the people who don't have any clue that any of this exists. But this was my choice. I made it, and now I'm stuck with it. Do you hear me belly-aching about how unfair it is? No. I just get on with trying to help in any way that I can."

"Admirable," Avariel said. "And fortunate for you, that the people you care about trust you. I allowed my friends to die, I broke the law of Heaven, and I risked everything to save Sam and Dean. And even though I have lost everything I ever cared about, they still don't trust me. They still keep me here, powerless, because they are too small-minded to believe that I want to help. If you had any heart at all, you would call on Castiel and have him kill me now, rather than leave me to suffer here, a silent witness to the crimes being committed in my Father's name." She stood up, a frightening smile on her face. "Or maybe I'll just do it myself. Would I earn your trust by throwing myself into the flames of my prison? If I end my life, will it prove to you that I am being honest? I would rather die than watch Lucifer destroy the world and ruin my Father's work."

He looked at the angel in disbelief. How desperate was she, to say these things? How much did it hurt her, to sit caged within the fire, a witness to all that was happening in the world? How long would she remain, if she thought that freedom was not an option? Her words were not those of a well-adjusted individual. "You're crazy," he accused.

"A little, yes," she replied. "I have hundreds of thousands of years worth of observations stored inside the head of a hairless ape without the mental capacity to process it all. You try holding onto that and remaining perfectly sane. If you ask me, I'm doing rather well, so far. I try to remember the important things; Passenger pigeons. The plague. Steam engines. Penicillin. Shakespeare. Gunpowder. Ad infinitum. I've already had to let go of the less important memories. I just hope I haven't lost anything that will come back to haunt me."

"Are you saying that you're forgetting everything that you once knew?"

"Not everything," she said with a casual shrug. "Most things, I remember. But my vessel was never designed for long term memory storage. Perhaps this is why grigori were forbidden from taking vessels. Perhaps we burn them out too quickly. Don't worry, though. I have plenty to let go of. Small memories which do not affect the larger picture in any way. I will retain anything I believe to be of importance."

"Alright," he said. What else could he say? The angel in his basement appeared to be a ticking timebomb of memories. What would happen to her if she couldn't let go of enough of them?

She seemed to sense his thoughts, and smiled, her silver eyes flashing brighter momentarily. "Do not worry about me, Bobby. The human brain is a wonderful thing. If only you knew the potential of your species, you might not waste your time with petty squabbles and wars. I can contain almost all of my knowledge, and leave my vessel completely undamaged by it. I am merely... frustrated. I want to help. It pains me, inside my chest, to be forced to sit here, doing nothing."

"Do you know what happened to the boys in Yellow Creek?"

"Yes, I was Watching," she confirmed. "They performed admirably. I never doubted them for even a moment."

"Have you had any other... visions? Of people who need help, I mean?"

"Everybody on this planet needs help," she said. "Right now, in England, a family is being drained by vampires. In Canada, a wendigo stalks a group of campers. In Australia, a swimmer is being dragged beneath the waves by a shark. Werewolves stalk the land in Romania. Something you call a chupacabras is killing goat-herders in Mexico. A bus crash in Spain just killed a class full of school children. A Scottish Kelpie had just drowned a man. Three dark witches in Russia are sacrificing newborn infants. Should I continue?"

"No," he said. The room suddenly felt much colder, despite the holy fire burning within it.

"I am but one angel, and you are but one hunter. Even if I told you of all the wrongs which need righting, you would never be able to stop them all. We must pick our battles, Bobby. We must choose the ones we can win, and hope that the others can be fought by different champions. The time will soon come when I will need to be set free. I cannot abide this circle for much longer. I can die, or I an be your ally. It is your choice. I suggest you speak to the Winchesters when you are able. Perhaps we will talk again soon."

Avariel sat down again, her silver eyes focused on something else now. He knew he would get no more conversation from her. She had given them all she ever would, at least until they came to some decision about her. He just hoped the boys would return from Wisconsin sooner, rather than later. If Avariel decided to take matters into her own hands, he suspected he wouldn't like the outcome.

o - o - o - o - o

Dean ran through the forest beneath the light of the full moon. He heard the beast chasing him, the sound of its feet pounding the bare earth with its every stride. It was gaining on him. He knew it without even having to look back. His ancestors, living in caves and sharing their environment with larger, more dangerous predators, had developed what some might call a sixth-sense, an ability to know when danger was near. Most humans, made soft by the comforts of civilisation, had lost that sense, or it had diminished to such an extent that when it happened as a 'gut instinct', they ignored it. In Dean, and those like him, who hunted monsters every day of their lives, the sense was finely honed, and right now it was telling him to run for his life.

The gun in his hand was useless. He had fired all of his rounds at the creature hunting him, but still it came, and he had no more ammunition. He didn't know what the beast was, hadn't been able to get a good look at it. All he knew was that it was fast, smart, deadly, and needed more than a few bullets to put it down. He needed silver bullets, or an axe, or rock-salt. He wasn't sure which. Where the hell was Sam? Why wasn't his brother here with him, helping him to figure out what this thing was, helping him to kill it?

His heart pounded in his chest as he ran, mimicking the rhythmical pounding of the beast's feet. His lungs began to burn and his legs felt afire as he sprinted as fast as he could. In the darkness, he did not see that, to his left, the ground fell away down a steep-sided bank. Running full-pelt, he came too close to the edge, lost his footing, and slipped. Down and down he tumbled, bounced painfully on the ground, his limbs hitting the trunks of trees as he spun out of control, ferns and brambles scratching at his face. He was dimly aware of his body aching, but he banged his head, and thinking became a little harder. When at last he came to a stop he lay bruised and exhausted, panting rapidly, trying to bring his limbs back under his control.

There was a smell of something foul and sulphuric, and a warm gust of wind blew across his face. Rolling onto his back, he looked up into the demonic, twisted face of a hellhound standing over him. The monster opened its jaws wide, and Dean closed his eyes.

When pain and death did not come, he opened his eyes, and saw the full moon in the sky. It bathed the trees around him in its silvery light, and the air was still, silent. The beast was gone.

He sat up and looked around. What had happened? Had Sam come? Had his brother stopped the beast from taking him back to Hell? Had Sam succeeded, this time around?

"Dean," said a voice, and he looked around to see Avariel standing a short distance away. She was wearing a white dress, her hands clasped together in front of her, and looked quite pretty in the moonlight.

"Avariel?" he asked in disbelief. "What the Hell?"

"You are dreaming, Dean. A nightmare, I believe you call them."

"I told you not to enter my dreams," he said, standing up and brushing the leaves and twigs from his clothes and hair. His heart was still beating too fast, but he had the fear under control, now. "I'm fed up of being woken up by angels at stupid o'clock."

"It is not stupid o'clock, Dean. It is eleven o'clock in the morning."

"What? Are you kidding?" he demanded. He never slept that late, not even when he was laid up in bed with injury or illness.

"No, my sense of humour is not this low. I am sorry to wake you, but we must talk."

"About what? You seen another wholesale monster-slaughter that needs stopping?"

"No, not yet." She took a step towards him, but kept her hands clasped together. He was glad that her eyes were their usual blue colour; the silver Watcher-vision was more than a little freaky. "I believe I am now ready to leave my prison."

"Oh, you are, are you?" he scoffed. If she thought he was releasing her any time soon, she obviously didn't know a thing about him.

"Yes. I understand your apprehension, but I would like to discuss this matter with you in person. Please come and see me. I know you don't trust me. Bring Sam as well, if you like. And Castiel too, if it comforts you to have him there. Please, Dean. Come and speak to me."

He was pushed out of the dream less forcefully this time, and woke with only a small jump. Opening his eyes, he was met by the sight of Bobby's living room ceiling, suspicious brown spots and all. This living room had seen a lot of action over the years, and Dean doubted even a whitewash could get rid of all the stains.

Sitting up in his sleeping bag, he pulled the covers back and quickly checked out his clothes. Only slightly creased. That was good; he didn't believe in ironing. Didn't even own an iron. Sometimes he shoved a suit into a hotel press, but only when he was working a job which required him to impersonate somebody more respectable. He clambered out of the sleeping bag and pulled on his boots before making his way to the study. There, he found Bobby and Sam sitting at the large desk, a few books spread open around them.

"Whatcha doing?" he asked Sam.

"Research. Sometimes it feels like all we ever do." Sam looked up at him, his brown eyes full of concern. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he lied.

"There's some left-overs in the kitchen, if you want breakfast."

Dean shook his head. "Nah, not hungry."

"Not hungry? Are you sick?" Sam asked, only half-joking.

"No. But Ava just angel'd herself into my dream again."

"What'd she have to say for herself?" Bobby asked. He looked interested. Dean knew that Bobby had spent a fair bit of time talking to the angel; it wasn't as if there was much else for him to do, being wheelchair-bound. In a way, Dean was glad Avariel was stuck in the basement, because her presence gave Bobby something to think about, and gave him company when he and Sam had to go out working. But at the same time, he knew that the angel couldn't be trusted—he believed Cas's judgement was sound—and he was leery of leaving Bobby alone with her for too long. There was no guessing what things she would tell him to try and win his sympathy.

"She wants out of her cage," he replied.

Sam took a deep breath and sat back in his chair. "I think that's not such a bad idea. No, Dean, let me finish. Avariel saved our lives. She came down here, breaking the rules which technically bound her to Heaven, to rescue us, and even when her friends were dying, she didn't abandon us. She's given us answers, and she's helped us to stop a village being massacred by barghests. I trust her. Enough to let her out, anyway."

"Of course you do," Dean said, though it came out more scornful than he had intended. "You see what she wants you to see; a pretty girl with a friendly angel inside her. Trust me, Sam, there's no such thing as a friendly angel. They all want something; all of them. If she's here now, it's because she's using us for some unseen purpose. They can't be trusted."

"What about Cas?"

"Exception to the rule," he replied.

"Dean," Bobby said, and Dean groaned. Bobby was like a second father to him, and he knew the man well enough to tell when an argument was impending. "We can't keep her here forever. Eventually, we're going to have to do something about her. The longer we put it off, the harder it's going to be. On all of us."

"Bobby," Sam said, his voice taking on a wheedling tone. "Do we even have to think about that?"

"Those are our options, Sam," the surly hunter replied, practical as ever. "We'll have to set her free one way or the other."

Dean took a deep breath. He didn't trust Avariel, but he hadn't truly thought about killing her. Now, the scene played out in his head. Avariel standing there in the ring of fire, watching as he approached to end her life. And it wasn't just the angel who would die; there was a girl in there, too: Katie. An innocent child who had barely even begun living her life. Bobby had told he, Sam and Cas about Katie after they'd returned from the barghest hunt. Unfortunately, he couldn't strike at the angel without striking at the girl.

"I'll call Cas," he said, and pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"Maybe we shouldn't," Sam said.

"What? Why the hell not?"

"I know why you want Cas here, Dean," Sam said. Dean hated his brother, at times. There was very little he could hide from Sam, with his stupid emotion crap and intuition. Sam continued to drive the point home. "If we decide not to free her, someone's going to have to kill her. You know Cas'll do it without hesitation or regret. It will be quick and convenient, and you won't have to think about having the blood of an innocent girl on your hands."

"Is there something wrong with that?" he snapped at his younger sibling. "He was more than willing to stop Anna, and the two of them had god knows how much history together. If he's fine with stopping yet another angel who wants to screw us over, I say let him. Besides, Avariel is a frigging angel. Do you think she's just going to stand there and let us end her life? We're going to need one of Cas's angel blades, and his help if she turns violent. You saw what she did to Zach."

Sam just shook his head, and Dean could tell his brother wasn't happy about any of this. Bobby didn't look thrilled with it, either. Sometimes, Dean felt as if he was the only one with an ounce of common sense. And because there were no more arguments, he dialled Castiel and said, "We need you at Bobby's."

"What's wrong?" Cas asked, appearing in a corner of the room.

"Avariel wants to talk about coming out of her cage," Dean said without preamble.

"Do not let her out," Cas warned.

"Why not?" Sam asked, sitting up and addressing the angel directly. "So far, the only reason you've been able to give us is that grigori aren't trustworthy. Yet this one has saved our lives, given us answers, and tipped us off about a hunt. Don't get me wrong, you're doing a fantastic job at making us all paranoid that she's going to knife us to death as we sleep, but shouldn't we at least give her a chance before condemning her to death?"

"Honestly? No," Castiel replied. "But I can see that the grigori has managed to manipulate you into sympathising with it. You'll do as you feel is necessary and want me to clean up whatever mess is left at the end. Is that right?"

"No," said Sam. "Dean, please. If you don't trust her, that's fine. Let me free her. She can be my problem. And if it goes sideways, I'll be the one to clean up the mess. Let it be on my head."

Dean closed his eyes as his head started to ache. It had been over twelve hours since he'd had anything to eat or drink, and he was feeling light-headed and stressed due to his recent nightmare. Inside, he felt torn. He understood where Sam was coming from; everybody deserved a chance to prove themselves. Avariel was no monster, she was an angel, and the usual rules of 'kill first, as questions later' didn't really apply to angels. But he also trusted Castiel's judgment on the matter. If Cas said the grigori could not be trusted, then to free her would basically be telling Cas that he did not trust his judgment.

"Look at us," said Bobby, sounding disgusted, "sitting around discussing killing Avariel and the body she's currently sitting in, playing at judge, jury and executioner. Shouldn't we at least give her a chance to speak for herself before condemning her to death?"

"Bobby's right," Sam said. No surprises there. "Let's just... talk to her. We owe her that much, at least."

"Fine," Dean said, already exhausted by it all. "Cas, you got that blade of yours close to hand?"

"Of course."

They all left the study and made their way to the stairs. None of them spoke. The tension in the air was heavy and palpable, oppressive. In the pit of his stomach, Dean felt cold and empty. Already, he was steeling himself for what had to come. He shut everything down, all of his feelings, what little was left of his emotions. This was the only way you could truly work as a hunter, he was starting to learn. If you let people in, you made yourself vulnerable, and he already had too many vulnerabilities; Sam, Bobby, Cas... The thought of losing his friends, the only family he had, made his insides twist painfully.

In the panic room, from within the circle of fire, Avariel watched them approach. The fire would burn forever, unless it was doused by a large quantity of water. It needed nothing to fuel it once the oil had ignited, and not even an arch-angel could pass through the flames without being destroyed.

"Ahh," Avariel said, as they approached the circle. "My firing squad arrives. Do I get a last request? One final meal? A black hood for over my head? Not that a hood would stop me from seeing, but it might make it easier for you."

"We're not here for an execution," Sam said, before Dean could stop him.

"Really? Then why the air of despondency? Did your puppy just die?"

"Avariel," said Bobby, rolling his chair forward a little, "we really would like to believe you. But we have... trust issues. The truth is, we have no idea what you'll do if we let you out of that circle."

"I will help you stop the apocalypse," she said confidently. "That is my long term goal, at least. In the short term, my plans are a little more... specific."

"What do you mean?" Dean asked her.

"Well, there are three things that my vessel does not wish me to do. One, eat chocolate sundaes, which I'm informed are deliciously calorific. Two, watch The Exorcist, because of its satanic themes, and three, have sex, which is very sinful when done before marriage. Therefore, these are my priorities upon being freed."

Dean stared at her for a moment. "You're telling me that the first thing you intend to do when you get out of your cage is to go on a hedonistic orgy of chocolate icecream, horror movies and sex?"

"I expect I'll have to work up to two and three, but chocolate icecream is a good place to start in the human experience," she said, and he realised that she was being one hundred percent completely serious.

"Why would you do things that your vessel... Katie, right?... doesn't want you do do?" Sam asked. He looked as confused as Dean felt.

"I have observed that these things are considered 'fun' by most humans, and that by denying themselves certain pleasures, the devout are proving their devotion to God, over such worldly things as chocolate, horror movies and sex. I wish to experience fun, and it's not as if Katie has anything to prove. There is a place in Heaven reserved for her regardless of what I do with her body."

"How could you have watched Star Wars from up on your cloud, but not The Exorcist?" Dean asked.

"I always suspected I might find a vessel for myself some day," she replied. "I wanted to save The Exorcist until I had a body to inhabit, so that I could experience the full extent of the horror the film is supposed to convey."

"Oh. Well, that's..." He shook his head, unable to think of a suitable word. "This is not a conversation I expected to have. Ever. Especially not with an angel."

"It changes nothing," said Castiel.

"Then let me make it easier for you," Avariel said, stepping forward, glaring frostily at Cas before turning her eyes on Dean. "I will swear an oath of obedience."

"And that's supposed to convince me... how?" Dean asked

"Enlighten him," Avariel said to Cas.

Castiel gave a small sigh. "An angel who swears an oath cannot break that oath without being struck down dead."

"So you'll swear an oath to serve me?" he asked her.

Avariel laughed, which sounded a little weird, and there was genuine humour in her eyes when she looked at him. "Oh Dean, you do say the funniest things. First of all, I said an oath of _obedience_, not _servitude_. Also, I would not submit to obeying _you_. I would be turned into your personal chef and/or sex slave in less than a week. No. There is only one person here I would consent to obey. And that is him."

Avariel pointed with her finger, and Dean turned his head, following the direction she was pointing in. Nobody looked more shocked than Bobby, when they realised Avariel was pointing at the old hunter.

"Me?" Bobby said, sheer disbelief plain on his face for all to see. "You'll swear an oath of obedience to me? Why the hell would you do a fool-crazy thing like that?"

"Because I have Watched you, Bobby Singer," Avariel said. "You are wise, and you have integrity. Those are qualities I can respect. And I would be less concerned about you abusing any oath I make to you."

Bobby turned to look at Castiel. "Is what she says true? Would she have to obey me, if she swore an oath like that?"

Cas gave a brief nod. "If it was sworn in the name of God, yes."

"I'm not sure I'm comfortable having somebody sworn to obey my every command."

"That is one of the reasons I chose you," Avariel admitted. "Well, you have my offer, and I cannot make a better one. Take it or leave it, the choice is yours."

"What do you think, Cas?" Dean asked his friend.

"This could work," the angel said reluctantly. "It was not something I had considered, because no angel has made such a vow in a very, very long time. But it should make Avariel easier to control."

"Standing right here," the grigori pointed out.

"Alright, Bobby," Dean said. "If you're willing to handle it, I'm not going to object." It was probably going to be a huge mistake, but it would at least buy them some time.

He watched as Bobby turned to the angel in the fire. "You have our answer, Avariel. Once you've made your oath, we'll set you free."

Avariel stood up a little straighter in the circle. "In the name of the Lord our God, my Father who created the Heavens and the Earth, I swear that from this moment henceforth I shall be obedient to you, Robert Singer, and shall obey any command that you speak, above and beyond the commands of the Host of Heaven, and I shall keep this oath until released from it by you."

There was a moment of silence as the finality of the oath sunk in. Then, Sam cleared his throat.

"Well. That sounded rather... serious."

"That should do it," Castiel agreed. "She cannot disobey now. Not without being struck down and killed."

"Do you want to do the honours?" Dean asked him, gesturing at the circle. The angel raised his hand and the flames died down.

Avariel stepped forward, finally free of the cage which had bound her since her capture. Seeing her out of the fire made Dean's skin tingle, and not in a pleasant way. He wondered if they really had made a mistake.

"Bobby," Castiel said, stepping up beside the grizzled hunter, "you should order her not to harm or betray you or Sam and Dean."

"What? Why?"

"She swore only to obey you, but mentioned nothing about protecting you from harm that she may or may not have caused."

"I would not harm them anyway," Avariel said.

"Make it an order," Castiel told Bobby firmly.

"Well, okay, if you insist. Avariel, I'm ordering you not to harm or betray anyone in this room. Happy?" he asked Cas.

"Now instruct her to speak only the truth to you."

"Avariel, you will only speak the truth to me," said Bobby.

"I will tell you no lies," she agreed amicably.

"Good," said Castiel. "Now, tell us how you managed to defeat Zachariah."

Avariel said nothing, but she glanced at Bobby, as if asking for permission.

"Please answer that question," Bobby said. "I'd like to know the answer, too."

"The spell I used is an ancient Enochian incantation," Avariel said, "which causes injury inflicted upon an angel to be reflected back upon the angel's attacker. It translates to 'Spell of Empathy' in this English language. Unfortunately for all of you, it can only be used by an angel, and only once. It is a measure of last resort which lasts twelve hours, and after that there is no way for the spell to be used again."

"And what is this?" Castiel said, holding up the longsword Avariel had used to cut Zach. Dean blinked at its appearance; he was sure his friend hadn't been holding the blade a minute ago.

Again, Avariel looked to Bobby.

To Dean, it was clear that Avariel was going to exercise her freedom in any way that she could, and in particular she seemed to delight in not having to answer to anybody but Bobby. He had to give credit where due, though; as soon as Bobby requested an answer, she gave him one. No pouting or sulking or sighing or rolling her eyes. She seemed resigned to the fact that she had to obey him.

"That is the Sword of Damocles," she said immediately.

"I thought that was just a myth," said Sam. "A prop from a moral story?"

"Just as angels are myths, and props from your bible?" she retorted. Dean wondered if that comment was aimed at him. He hadn't believed Castiel, at first, when his friend had claimed to be an angel.

"Refresh me on this Damocles thing," he said. "It rings a bell."

"Basically," said Sam, putting on his patient lecturer voice, "Damocles was a courtier of an Italian ruler. He fawned over his king, and exclaimed that because the king was in a position of power, that must mean he had the power to do as he wished. The king invited Damocles to dine at his table, and sit in his kingly throne. But over the throne, he dangled a sword, held aloft by a single horse-hair which was fastened to the ceiling above. Damocles spent the whole of the meal petrified that the sword was going to fall and kill him, and then begged to be allowed to leave. The king granted his request, and told Damocles that a sword dangled over the head of every powerful man."

"The more important you are, the more you have to lose, and the more you worry about losing it," Bobby summed up.

"It is a sword that cannot hurt a pauper, but would fell a king," Avariel said, sounding pleased with herself. "It was also angel-forged, so I knew it would harm Zachariah."

"Where did you get this?" Cas asked her.

She shrugged. "It's spent the past two hundred years as a museum piece in Australia. Don't worry, nobody will miss it. There is an identical replica in its place, now, the only difference being that it was forged by man and not angels. I would like it back, by the way." She held out her hand. Cas merely looked at her.

"Bobby," Avariel said, "I want my sword. Castiel already has a sword capable of inflicting more damage than mine."

"Fair's fair, Cas," Bobby said.

"Cas," Dean added, when his friend didn't move. "C'mon, man. You already have that kick-ass angel blade. You're not getting sword-envy just because hers is bigger, are you?"

"Size has nothing to do with the ability of a weapon," Cas said, failing to understand the not-so-subtle word-play. "Your demon-killing dagger is very small, for example."

"Just give her the damn sword," he growled.

Cas finally relented, and handed the weapon over. Avariel accepted it, and the moment she touched it, it disappeared.

"Before you ask, the blade is partially incorporeal," she explained. "It can be called into and out of being by the last angel who touched it."

"Y'know," Sam said, a thoughtful expression on his face. Which wasn't saying much, because he spent half his time looking thoughtful. "That spell and that sword... they were very clever ways to get around your lack of power in relation to Zach."

Avariel smiled. "Thank you, Sam. I like to think that what grigori lack in power, we make up for in intelligence. I knew that Zachariah would crush me like a... bug on a windshield? Is that the correct term?"

"Yeah."

"So I came with tools most suited to the battle. I could not hope to match Zachariah in strength, so I used his own strength against him. Do not misunderstand, though; I am not completely powerless. I am sure I can help in many ways in the battle against the apocalypse."

"Really?" Dean asked. She sounded like she was bragging, now. "Just what can you do?"

"Some of the things my bigger brothers can," she said. "Teleportation, obviously. I can heal myself, and if I wasn't cut off from Heaven I could probably heal others, too. I speak every language known to man, even those no longer in use. I can manipulate energy fields. I'm very good at controlling the weather, as you've seen. I prefer to micro-manage, though; I get about a mile radius of weather control around me. And, of course, I have my own little tricks."

"Such as?" Bobby asked.

"Watcher-vision," Dean said, realising he'd already seen one of her 'tricks' in action.

"Yes. I see more than the average angel. I can watch many things at once. I can also communicate with animals."

"What? Really?" Sam asked. Dean rolled his eyes at his little brother's excited tone.

"Yes. Doves as messengers? That's me. Little donkey carrying Mary? That's me. Or, well, grigori in general. Animals are a particular speciality of mine, though."

"Ahh," Bobby said. "I wondered what you meant, when you told me that you thought your vessel's desire to become a vet and help animals was the reason she was chosen for you."

Avariel treated him to a smile. "Indeed. I think that's about as much as I can do. Apart from being very strong, of course. And the singing."

"Singing?" Dean asked skeptically.

"All grigori can sing," she said, a serious look on her face. "Where do you think the term 'choir of angels' came from? Of course, if you heard me singing in my natural voice, your brain would probably implode, but I'm willing to bet I can make this vessel carry a tune. Maybe I can play musical instruments, too."

"What about tap-dancing?" he jokingly asked. She took the question as serious, however.

"I don't know. I could give it a try, I suppose. Anyway, are you and Judge Judy done with the questions for now?" she asked, glancing at Cas. He scowled, probably because he didn't understand the reference.

"I guess so. Unless you've got any questions for her, Bobby?"

"I'm fresh out of questions, for the moment."

"I have one," Sam spoke up. "Avariel, you can watch people all over the world, right?"

"Correct."

"You see actions, but can you see motives? Can you read peoples' minds?"

"No. And to be honest, I don't think I'd want to."

"You wouldn't want some mind-reading super-power?" Dean asked. He could definitely see the benefits of being able to read minds. Cheating at cards would become so much easier, for a start. He wouldn't have to worry about being lied to by anybody. He'd be a much more efficient hunter if he could read minds.

"It's called telepathy, ya idjit," Bobby grumbled.

"Whatever. But who wouldn't want that sort of power?"

"Anybody with an ounce of common sense," Avariel said. "The ability to lie is uniquely human. I have observed that people lie for a variety of reasons; to protect themselves and others, to spare somebody's feelings, to mislead an opponent... some of the reasons for lying are nefarious, and others are less so. I do not think humans would cope so well if faced with absolute truths. But perhaps my opinion will change once I have had more experience of being human. By the way, Bobby, I would like to use your shower now, please."

"What for?" Bobby asked suspiciously.

She gestured at herself, at the blood-soaked dress and her red-patchy skin. Of course, she'd been inside the circle for more than a few days already.

"Can't you just... zap yourself clean?" Sam asked her.

She shrugged. "I don't know. But that doesn't sound like fun. I would like to know what water feels like on my skin. Preferably warm water."

"Well, alright," Bobby agreed. "The bathroom is up the stairs, second—"

"I know where it is," she said. "But I will also need new clothes."

"What's wrong with the clothes you already have?" Dean asked her, eyeing the dress. He hadn't even known that angels could change clothes. Cas had never changed his clothes in all the time that Dean had known him. Nor had Zachariah.

Avariel gave him a level look, clearly not impressed with his question. "Apart from the fact that they're covered in my own blood? The dress has kittens on it, Dean. Kittens."

"I see your point."

"There's a trunk upstairs, in one of the spare rooms," Bobby said. "It belonged to Ellen and Jo... some of the stuff they left here the night before we tried to stop Lucifer from summoning Death. You're welcome to whatever's there."

Bobby's words angered Dean, and made the pounding in his head even worse. Scowling, he stepped forward. "You can't give her those," he said. "They're not yours to give away."

"Or yours to keep," Bobby countered. "What use are you or I going to ever have for womens' clothes? If Avariel can put them to good use, she can have them."

"Thank you, Bobby," Avariel said. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a shower to experience."

She sauntered out of the panic room, and they heard her footsteps as she climbed the stairs, followed by the closing of the cellar door. Dean tried to fight back the uneasy feeling in his stomach over this whole situation. Despite her oath, he knew she had no true loyalty to anybody present in the room, and his experience, rogue angels were rarely a good thing.

"I will go and watch her," Cas said.

"What the hell for?" Sam demanded.

"Signs of treachery."

"In the shower?"

"Cas, you can't just go around watching girls in the shower," Bobby explained patiently.

"It is not a girl," Cas insisted. "It is a grigori."

"In a girl's body," said Sam.

"I wouldn't mind watching her in the shower," Dean said with a boyish grin. Sam aimed one of _those_ looks at him.

"Nobody is watching anybody in the shower," said Bobby. "And that's final. Now come on, ya idjits. You can help me clean up in the kitchen, and then we can get back to research. This apocalypse isn't going to stop itself, you know."

o - o - o - o - o

Thick clouds of steam rose in the air of the bathroom, hitting the ceiling, bouncing along it, then tumbling down to the floor. It was a beautiful, lively dance, and Avariel watched the steam-clouds through the eyes of her vessel as she stood beneath the streaming shower.

Hot water, she was coming to realise, was amazing. The sensation of it evoked feelings of warmth and comfort in her vessel, and her muscles began to feel relaxed. She hadn't realised, until this point, just how tense her vessel had become, with nothing to do but sit or stand in a circle for days. Already she had used shampoo and shower gel, taking instruction from the memories of Katie, and was now simply enjoying the feeling of the water running down her body.

She had no idea how long she stood there for. All angels could monitor time and its passage, and Avariel was no exception; she simply didn't care about it, at the moment. To her own mind, there was little difference between ten minutes and ten years, but her mind was mostly inactive right now as she focused instead on the experiences of her body.

The initial wearing-in period hadn't been easy. Most of the time, angels preferred to spend a few days near a vessel, preparing the human for contact and eventual control. It made the process easier and more seamless for both parties. Forced to forego that luxury, Avariel had struggled with how to control her new vessel for the first few minutes, which had caused her to react slowly when confronting Zachariah. Separating the manual from the autonomous processes had been a challenge. She hadn't realised that she did not have to tell her vessel's lungs to inhale and exhale, the eyes to blink, the heart to pump blood.

Antagonistic muscle pairs were easier. She simply had to think about moving an arm or a leg, and it happened without direct control. Sometimes, muscles worked when she didn't even want them to. On several occasions now she had found herself smiling at things, and even laughing. She put this down to the influence of the vessel, and recognised that, on some level, Katie was trying to prompt her into making the correct social responses. It was both comforting and worrying; comforting because it would help to make her transition into an Earth-being easier, but worrying because she knew that vessels should not have this much influence on the angels inhabiting them.

She was a little concerned that something had gone wrong with the whole process. But then, it had been such a long time since a grigori had taken a vessel. Perhaps this was natural for the lesser angels. Perhaps the integration was smoother, when an angel was less powerful. Perhaps her own personality was less overwhelming, allowing the human consciousness to be more... awake. She just didn't know enough about it all to form a judgement.

She could have stayed beneath the hot running water for hours, so content did it make her feel, but when her skin began to turn pink and wrinkly, she turned the tap off, and the stream of wonderful hot water finally stopped. The air was saturated with vapour, and the grey mist swirled around her body as she stepped out of the shower. Goosebumps automatically rose on her skin, but she ignored them. Angels did not feel cold, or heat, though too much heat was capable of irreparably damaging a vessel.

There was a tall mirror set into one of the walls of the bathroom, fogged up with steam. Avariel reached out towards it with the hand of her vessel, placing her palm onto the cold surface. When she removed her hand from it, a print was left behind, and the sight of it made her smile. She had a body, now. She could have an effect on the world. She could leave something behind, even if it was an ephemeral handprint.

Concentrating her mind, she focused on the mirror, and it cleared of fog instantly. Her own reflection looked back at her, and she took a moment to study it, familiarising herself with her new form. Katie was not a tall human—five feet and four inches, by her own measurements—and she had a slender frame. She wasn't skinny or frail, because she had grown up on a farm and worked with animals, and nobody grew up skinny or frail on a farm, but what she lacked for in physical strength she made up for in endurance. She could carry buckets of animal feed around all day, or spend an afternoon skipping out dirty stables, and still feel fresh after.

Not for the first time, Avariel wondered how different things would be right now if her vessel had been male, instead of female. She knew that throughout history, women had often been considered the weaker gender, and whilst it was true that most women lacked the muscle mass of their male counterpoints, it didn't mean they were any less capable. Humans had surpassed the point where physical strength was the greatest inheritable trait; they had vehicles to transport them and machines to lift for them. Swords and axes were no longer the weapon of choice, replaced by guns, which required no great strength to shoot.

It didn't matter, to Avariel, what sort of body she inhabited, as long as it was compatible with her natural form. Male and female meant nothing to her, because grigori had no gender. The human experience would be no less simply because she was inhabiting the body of a woman instead of a man. Humans were humans, and gender was just a very small and largely unimportant aspect of humanity. She was, however, coming to slowly associate herself with being female. Or at least, she was coming to understand that others associated her with being female. The three humans in the house already referred to her as 'she' and seemed to consider her female, even if they didn't entirely trust her.

She noticed a small scar on the left side of her thigh, and accessed Katie's memories.

_ Running through the woods with her friends as a child, playing hide and seek. A trip over brambles, falling onto a log that had lain on the ground. A branch tine piercing her leg, snapping off into the muscle. A trip to the hospital to have the wood removed and the injury dressed._

Human bodies were so... frail. They injured easily and took time to repair. Why would her Father create such fragile creatures? Why did He curse them with short life spans? What did He hope to gain from this experiment? Why had He created the Earth for them to live on, and then abandoned them to it?

Not even the arch-angels had answers to those questions. Or, if they did, they weren't providing the answers to anybody else. In the end, it didn't matter to Avariel. Her Father had made the humans, just as He had made the angels. He had not created them equal; angels did not age or tire or die of natural causes. But nor did they experience love or sadness or joy. 'Not equal' did not necessarily mean 'superior'. Humans possessed something most angels could not even conceive; free will. The ability to make choices. The opportunity to say 'yes' or 'no'. They alone amongst the animals and the angels could think, reason, question and disobey. Of course, angels could learn to do that, too. They just had to walk a much, much finer line. Angels who sinned even a little were punished far worse than the humans who did the same.

Once she was more comfortable with the sight of her new body, she turned to the pile of clothes she had brought from the trunk. She knew at a glance that Ellen's were too big for her, so she turned to Jo's. The girl had been a bit taller than Katie, but the clothes weren't too bad a fit, just a little long on the legs and sleeves. They would suffice until she was able to find some clothes of her own.

She selected a pair of blue jeans, and searched through the shirts. Mostly they were black vest-tops, along with one cream-coloured blouse. She pulled on a black t-shirt, and wore the blouse unbuttoned over it. Dressed, she returned to the spare room, to the clothes trunk. A pair of trainers was in the bottom of it, along with a pair of sturdy black leather calf-high boots. Katie recommended the trainers. Avariel objected. Boots were more durable and more waterproof. Plus, cooler. She didn't know how she knew, but she did. In the end, Avariel got her way.

There was some makeup in a small overnight bag. Avariel understood the concept of makeup; it was used to enhance an appearance, to make one human appear more attractive to another. Mostly it was women who used it, but in the past men had used it as well. So strange, the human species. With almost every other animal on Earth, it was the male who was the most flamboyant; bright plumage, large antlers, shining scales – males were more visually appealing to attract females. Humans seemed to have it the wrong way around.

Calling upon Katie's memories once more, she opened the eyeshadow and selected a steel-grey colour for her eyelids, and then used a kohl pencil to trace a faint outline around her lower eyes. Pink blusher brought a slightly healthier glow to her cheeks, and was followed by a brush of mocha-coloured lipstick across her lips. Then she turned her attention to her hair, which was still damp. Many women had long hair, Avariel knew, and so had Katie, until she'd started studying at college and working part-time in the animal shelter. It was then the girl had realised that long hair was simply a nuisance when you were trying to shove a pill down a cat's throat, or perform an animal autopsy to figure out why some poor dog had keeled over in front of his owners. The first thing Katie had done after the dog incident was get her hair cut short. It was a practical thing, and she rather liked how grown-up it made her feel. When she had been a little girl, her mother had tied her hair in... pigtails...

Avariel closed her eyes as a memory sprang up, unrequested.

_"Katie, get your sister ready for church!" Mom called from downstairs._

_ Ten year old Katie ran down the stairs two at a time, then dashed into the living room where her mother was trying to dress her two year old brother. Jon was squirming in his mother's grip, and not making it easy for the woman to dress him. "But Mom, you haven't done my hair yet!" Katie held her hand out towards her mother, two pink ribbons held firmly in her grip._

_ "I haven't got time to do your hair, Katie," mom replied. There were dark circles under her eyes; Jon kept her awake at nights with his teething pains. Her skin was dull and her hair was oily. She was so frazzled that she was barely keeping it together. Ten year old Katie had not seen that. She hadn't known any better. All she knew was that mom didn't have time for her anymore. Mom didn't even have time for Shona anymore. And because mom was so busy with Jon, dad had to feed the horses, and the chickens, and the sheep, and still needed to make it back to the house in time to clean up for church._

_ "But you always do my hair," Katie sulked._

_ "You're a big girl now, Katie," mom sighed. "And big girls do their own hair. Now go and make sure your sister isn't ruining her church dress."_

_ The ten year old girl felt her world crumble down around her. Every Sunday had been the same, for as long as she could remember. Up before dawn for an early breakfast. Bathed for church and dressed in her finest. And as dad played with Shona, eliciting happy gurgles from Katie's younger sister, Katie herself would have her hair put into pigtails by her mom, and ribbons tied into them. This was the way it had always been. That one day it might not be this way had never occurred to her. Children were not capable of thinking "one day, this might be gone". Not unless they had already suffered such a loss._

_ "Go on, Katie. We haven't got all day," mom grumbled._

_ Katie went back upstairs, the ribbons barely held in her limp hand. Inside, she felt empty. How could mom not do her hair? Mom always did her hair. It was what Katie looked forward to most, even more than going to church. Those few moments which belonged solely to Katie and her mother. They were what she treasured most of all._

_ And now, those moments were gone._

_ She found her five year old sister playing with dolls, and dressed her in her church-dress, then combed Shona's hair, pulling it back into a ponytail. It took only a few minutes to ready her sister for church, and then she put the child back with the dolls as she turned to look at her own reflection in the mirror. Her brown hair was long, more than halfway down her back. It was too long for her to brush on her own. Too long for her to tie on each side. And her fingers were not nimble enough for the ribbons. Every time she tried to tie one, the silken material slipped from her grip._

_ Tears formed in her eyes, and she lost hope, letting the ribbons fall onto the floor. Everybody in church would look at her and see her without ribbons in her hair. They would look at her and know. They would know that Katie's mother no longer had time for her anymore. They would whisper and pity her, and Katie would be forever without the ribbons. Her childhood had ended. She was a big girl now._

Avariel inhaled deeply as the musty scent of Bobby's house came flooding back into her nostrils, pulling her out of the childhood memory. Even now she could feel Katie's tears stinging her eyes, and she looked up at the mirror, to see her eyes damp.

So. These were tears, were they? She poked at one as it trickled down her cheek, and it clung to the end of her finger. Curious, she put the tip of her finger into her mouth, touching it with the end of her tongue. It tasted salty. Very strange indeed. Why would any species cry salt? Of what benefit was that to the individual?

She took a moment to fix the damage done to her eyeliner by the tears, and when she was confident no more tears would come, she stood up a little straighter and took one last look at herself in the mirror. She did not look like Katie. But she did not look like Avariel either. She didn't know what Avariel was supposed to look like, but this would have to do for now. Recalling that she had yet to fix her hair, she ran her fingers through it a few times, channelling a little heat to dry it, and then smoothed it down as best she could. Irritatingly, one little piece at the front kept sticking up at an odd angle, and would not lie flat no matter what she did to it. Perhaps she would have to ask Dean for advice on hair-styling products. She suspected he used them on a daily basis.

It was past time to see what trouble the Winchesters were getting themselves into without her to keep an eye on them. Leaving the spare room, she descended the stairs quietly, listening for voices. She heard them coming from the study, and she stopped for a moment to listen more closely. They were still discussing ideas about how to kill Lucifer. The Colt, which Avariel knew to be a formidable weapon, had failed. Dean was not pleased by its failure.

She stepped down the last of the stairs and entered the room. The conversation immediately ceased, and they all turned to look at her. Bobby was sitting behind his desk, as usual, in the position of authority. Sam was in front of the desk, a large tome in his lap, Dean was on the sofa, one foot up on the coffee table and his other leg hidden beneath a pile of paper scrolls, and Castiel was standing beside the window with his arms folded across his chest and an eternally patient expression on his face.

"Please don't let my presence stop you from talking," she offered.

"Well," Dean said, running his eyes over her. "You scrub up pretty well."

"Your approval is noted," she replied. Katie did not like the way he was looking at her. Avariel had no opinion of it. Dean looked at many girls. She knew it was nothing personal.

"How was the shower?" Bobby asked.

"Surprisingly enjoyable," she said, with a small smile for her new leash-holder. "I had no idea water felt like that. I don't understand why you mammals left the sea in the first place. If you ask me, the dolphins have the right idea. They fly through the water, you know."

"Riiiight," Dean said, and Avariel saw him glance meaningfully at Bobby. What his meaning was, exactly, was lost on her.

Sam cleared his throat before speaking. "So... Avariel. We've been trying to come up with a plan to stop Lucifer. Do you have any ideas?"

"Trap him in holy fire," she suggested.

"Oh, sure," Dean said jovially, "we'll just walk up to the guy and say 'Hey, Lucifer old buddy, would you mind standing still for a moment while we pour a ring of holy oil around you and set it on fire?' I'm sure he'll jump at the chance to do that."

"Not helping, Dean," Sam said. Avariel rather liked the youngest Winchester. His attitude was more helpful than his older brother's, at least.

"I was simply attempting to point out the reality of the situation," Avariel said. "To stop Lucifer you must either trap him or kill him."

"Well, I think it's safe to say trapping him is out of the question," Bobby said. And, because he didn't phrase it as a question or an order, Avariel kept her mouth firmly shut. "Do you know of anything that can kill him?"

"Yes," she said instantly. This oath of obedience was a little irksome. She resolved to try and answer more slowly, in future. After all, she'd never sworn to obey _immediately_. "Michael can kill Lucifer. God can kill Lucifer. Perhaps Raphael can, but I am not so sure. Perhaps one of the arch-angel blades can kill him."

"What about a Horseman?" Dean suggested.

"You will not turn the Horsemen against Lucifer," she said with confidence. "He has bound them to him. They cannot harm him."

"You seem to know an awful lot about the subject."

"Yes. My kind are called 'Watchers.' Guess why."

"Is there anything else that can kill Lucifer?" Sam asked desperately. "Anything at all?"

"Other than our Father or another arch-angel? Not that I'm aware of."

"So we're back to 'screwed'." Bobby sighed.

Avariel looked more closely at the man to whom she had sworn an oath of obedience. He showed many signs of tiredness, and indications of worry and stress. His life had not been an easy one, she knew, and since being confined to his wheelchair, he had fallen deeper and deeper into depression. He was a good man, and she felt a sudden desire to help him.

"Bobby, can we go for icecream?" she asked.

"Lucifer is free from his prison, the four Horsemen stalk the lands, the whole world is going to Hell, and you want to go for icecream?" he asked with a tone of astonishment.

"Well, it is my number one thing that I need to do before I die." She shook her head. "And believe me, I know just how precarious human existence is. So many lives, snuffed out just like that." She snapped her fingers, which made Dean jump. Had he been expecting something to happen, when she did that? "I could be dead tomorrow. Besides, I have been inside a cage for too many days, and I have yet to experience eating. I would like the first thing I eat to be icecream. Preferably chocolate. With sprinkles." She saw that he was wavering a little, and applied some pressure. "Please? You need a break just as much as I do. A chance to get out into the fresh air and just spend a few minutes truly enjoying something for a change. Wouldn't you like that?"

"You can stop giving me that look," Bobby warned Dean. A smirk disappeared from the face of the latter. Bobby gave a sigh of defeat. "Well, I suppose one icecream would be fine. But we're not making a habit of this. I'm not a damn angel-sitter."

"Thank you," she smiled, pleased that she had gotten her own way again. Perhaps working with Bobby would not be so bad after all. She stepped beside him, and glanced up at the Winchesters. "Do they have to come?" she asked Bobby, gesturing at the boys, and by extension, Castiel.

"Well... I suppose not," Bobby said. "It might be nice to get away from these idjits for a short time."

"Good, then it's settled!" She touched Bobby's shoulder, and teleported.

_- o -_


	5. Adventures in Angel-Sitting

_**Fallen**_

_**Book 1: Angels, Angels, Everywhere**_

Chapter 5

_- Adventures in Angel-Sitting -_

When the world swam back into view, Avariel looked down at the man in his wheelchair. He was staring around with his mouth open in shock and amazement. She followed his gaze, trying to take in the sights as he saw them; the craggy mountains in the near distance, the olive trees that grew like weeds all over the hillsides, the beautiful blue sky unmarred by a single cloud, and the light of the sun as it began to kiss the mountain tops.

There was a small café in front of them, all white stone and wrought iron with vines creeping up the walls. The road on which they stood was devoid of traffic, but it continued downhill to the right, and if one followed it with the eye it could be seen leading to a small town nestled in a valley, the buildings made of the same white stuff as the café. To the left, the road climbed upwards, as if to the sky itself.

Delicious aromas were on the warm breeze; honeysuckle, and the other sweet scents of plants; Cooking food from within the cafe; Something tangy and alcoholic.

"Where the hell are we?" Bobby demanded, looking up at her.

"A small, unimportant village, just outside of Perugia, Italy."

"Italy? You brought us to Italy? What in God's name did you do that for?"

"Because this café is claimed to have the best icecream in the world. Because the mountains are a beautiful backdrop to this setting. Because the weather is warm and people here are carefree. Also, because you didn't say that I _shouldn't_ bring us here."

"I didn't know that I had to specify 'do not leave the United States of America when going for icecream'."

"And now you do know," she said. "Well, we are here. Should we at least see this through?"

"Italy," he grumbled. "Bloody Italy."

But he did not object, so she stepped forward and opened the wrought iron gate to the café patio. Business seemed quiet today; a couple of older men were sitting at the indoor bar, but there was only a single couple sitting out on the patio, staring lovingly into each others' eyes. Avariel wondered what they saw there.

They were met on the veranda by an olive-skinned, dark-haired waiter who gave them both a gracious smile despite their obviously strange attire; Bobby still had his slippers on his feet.

"Welcome to our establishment," the waiter said, with a gracious half-bow. "Can I show you to a table for two?"

"A table for five, please," Avariel replied. "We are expecting company."

"Very well. Follow me, please."

"You think Cas and the boys are going to show up?" Bobby asked.

"Oh, I'm certain of it," she smiled.

"Did you zap me to Italy just to worry Sam and Dean?"

"Of course not, Bobby, I would never do that!" she said, attempting to sound scandalised. It was the truth. She hadn't _just_ done it to worry Sam and Dean. She also found it very amusing, and she genuinely did like Italy. Bobby didn't look as if he entirely believed her, but she had sworn an oath of obedience to him, so he could hardly accuse her of lying.

At the table, the waiter removed a seat for Bobby, so the elder man could wheel his chair into place, and asked for their orders.

"I'd like something from your icecream sundae range," she told the waiter. "Chocolate flavour. With chocolate sauce and chocolate sprinkles, and a chocolate flake sticking out of it."

"And for you, sir?"

"Just a coffee," said Bobby. "Black."

"I will be back with your order shortly."

"Tell me something," Bobby said, as he glanced around at the lovely scenery. "If we're in Italy, why was that guy speaking English?"

"He wasn't," she replied. "He was speaking Italian. As was I. I was merely translating it directly into your head, to make it easier for you to understand."

"And when I was speaking?"

"He heard you speaking Italian," she said with a shrug.

"You can just plug another language into somebody's brain?"

"That's a very crude way of putting it. I merely thought it best that we attempt to blend in by speaking the local language and dialect."

"And I don't suppose you thought to bring any Italian money with you?" he asked, lowering his voice so the other customers would not overhear.

"Indeed I did not. But I intend to save the world, so the way I see it, I'm owed at least one icecream."

Bobby shook his head and said nothing else until the waiter came back with his coffee. The chocolate sundae, when it arrived, looked like an unappetising pile of brown and white in a large clear glass. This was supposedly the best thing in the world? Humans actually enjoyed eating cold piles of brown? She picked up the spoon and tried not to think too much about all the things the body had to do in order to eat; mouth open, lips and tongue engage, mouth closed, spoon removed from mouth, jaw muscles working to swallow, peristalsis of the oesophagus... the human body was needlessly complex. Her Father worked in strange ways, it seemed.

The flavour of the cold icecream spread over her tongue in tiny ripples of pleasure which travelled up to her head. She must have looked surprised by the sensation, because Bobby chuckled at the expression on her face.

"So you've really never eaten anything before?" he asked.

"Is it that obvious?" She scooped up another spoonful of the icecream and closed her eyes to enjoy the experience as she ate it.

"What's Heaven like?" Bobby asked her.

She gave the question a moment of consideration. It was difficult to explain the concept of Heaven in terms that a human would understand. At last she settled on an allegory.

"It's rather like this icecream sundae," she said, gesturing at the glass with her spoon. "Layer upon layer of reality, inside which are mutable pockets of human experience. An angel can easily navigate the layers and pockets, much like the spoon."

"So... no fluffy clouds?"

She shook her head. "Heaven is not truly in the sky, it is in a layer of reality above this material plane, in which matter exists as thought and energy in its natural state. The human mind translates 'above' as 'in the sky' because for millennia, humans have looked to the sky and it has been unattainable thing directly above them, and they associate this with Heaven and God. If your species lasts long enough to make it into space and begin colonising new planets, you will cease to view the sky as a mysterious realm, and instead see it for what it truly is; the atmosphere of a planet. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Huh. Well, don't sugar-coat it or anything."

"You ordered me to speak the truth," she said with a shrug. "I merely tried to explain it as simply and honestly as possible."

"Bobby!" Dean's shout disturbed the peace of the air, and Avariel saw both Winchester boys hurrying towards the table followed by Castiel. "Are you alright, Bobby?"

"Of course I'm alright," Bobby scoffed. "I'm not a kid, Dean. I've been putting up with weird crap for longer than you've been alive, as you may recall."

Now that he could see Bobby was unharmed, Dean rounded on Avariel. "What the hell were you playing at, bringing him to Italy?"

"I was playing at icecream," she said, gesturing to her sundae. She glanced up at Castiel, who was watching her disapprovingly. "By the way, brother, this is amazing. You should try it. And by 'try it', I mean 'get your own'. This one's mine."

"I have no desire to eat," Castiel replied coldly. "And you are behaving irresponsibly."

"Why? Because I'm embracing the fact that I now have a body and can enjoy things like chocolate icecream and sunsets in Italy? Is that 'irresponsible'? Should I be more like you, and not bother trying these things? Why restrict myself in such a manner?"

"Because it is not right. Angels should be above simple physical pleasures."

"Says who? Our Father? Our big brothers? What makes you the expert in what angels should and should not do? We're in exactly the same boat, brother. The only difference is that I'm going to make the most of the journey and enjoy it while I can."

"And what is to stop you from becoming like the other grigori who fell?"

"The fact that I am aware of the dangers and am not stupid. I am not the fallen angel you need to worry about."

She took another bite of her icecream. Castiel was overreacting to her presence. She had no idea why he even considered her a threat at all, beyond the fact that some of her own kind had once made mistakes. But that didn't mean every grigori was dangerous or unreliable; just the opposite, in fact. Grigori were very dedicated to their tasks. When the other angels had started to give up hope and sink into despair after God's departure, the grigori had kept to their orders, Watching without question or complaint. They did not know what God's plan was, or even if He had one. They had not rebelled because they were disobedient children, but rather, they worried for the safety of the Earth if the apocalypse was allowed to happen. Bartholomew had been so certain that God wanted them to safeguard the Earth and humanity against the threat of destruction. They believed they were doing God's work when they began to question Michael. And when Bartholomew had been killed, Avariel knew that the task of saving the Earth fell to her. It was something she still believed with every fibre of her being.

"Why did you even come here?" Sam asked.

She told him the same thing she'd told Bobby. "Nice town, nice café, nice scenery and the best icecream in the world. Would you care to join us?" she offered, gesturing at the empty seats. "Try the icecream. You'll thank me."

Sam and Dean shared a look, and Dean rolled his eyes.

"One icecream," the elder Winchester said. "One. And then we're going back to Bobby's. All of us," he said, with a pointed look at Avariel.

The boys ordered an icecream each. Castiel ordered nothing, and no amount of chiding could convince him to eat food. He described it as 'inconvenient, unnecessary and messy.'

"You know," Dean said, once he'd tucked into his own dessert, "this is actually really good."

"Told you so." Finished with her own icecream, Avariel put her spoon down and pushed the glass away from her. Bobby had long ago finished his black coffee, and was now looking at the hills and mountains around him with a wistful look in his eyes.

"If you don't mind me saying," Sam said, "you seem to be remarkably blasé about this whole situation."

"What situation?" she asked, confused. "Being in Italy?"

"No. Being kicked out of Heaven and stuck in a vessel."

She shrugged. "I knew when I made the decision that this wouldn't be some temporary gig. I was sure it would be a one-way ride, and I accepted that before leaving. Am I not reacting correctly? Should I be brooding or moping about the misfortune of it all?"

"I don't know," he admitted. "From what you say, it sounds like you've lost everything. I just thought it would make you sad."

"It does," she assured him, though he didn't look as if he believed her. She couldn't blame him; everything was still sinking in, and she hadn't truly felt the shock of losing all of her friends yet. "But I haven't lost everything. I still have myself. I have my mission."

"So right now, you're living for your mission?"

"Yes. Avert the apocalypse."

"And what happens when you've completed your mission? When you either succeed or fail?"

"I don't know. Find a new mission, I suppose. Isn't that what life is about? Moving from one goal to the other, always striving to achieve something?"

"That's how our lives are," Dean said. "Normal people don't have a mission. They just get on with working a nine to five job, getting married and popping out a couple of kids."

"I disagree," Avariel said. "I have observed that humans always need something to aim for; whether that is killing monsters or getting a promotion at work, it is still a goal. It is still something to work towards and strive for. I have seen what happens when humans have no goals. They become despondent and depressed. They begin to question their worth. They fall into despair and consider ending their lives, because it all seems so pointless and without reason. It is not a healthy state of mind, and I have no desire to experience it."

"You got all that from watching humans?" Bobby asked, sounding impressed.

"I've been watching for a very long time, and now that I have a vessel of my own, I'm starting to understand more."

"How is Katie coping with all of this?"

"Surprisingly well," she admitted, with a little pride. "She is aware of some of the things which happen, but to her it seems like a dream. Sometimes I feel her stirring a little, and catch an occasional thought, but most of the time she is quiet, and content to slumber. You don't believe me?" she asked, noting the looks of disbelief on the boys' faces.

"It's just... well..." Sam looked at Castiel. "Jimmy, Cas's vessel, said it was like being strapped to a comet."

"I can't speak for the experience of other vessels. Maybe my presence is just less... overpowering." She gave Castiel a small, gloating smile. "Or perhaps I merely have more finesse."

"Most likely the former," Castiel replied tersely. He didn't look pleased by the intimation that she was more skilled than he at something.

"Are you two going to turn everything into a pissing contest?" Bobby demanded. "Honestly, it's like listening to children at times. Or Sam and Dean."

"Hey," Dean objected. "We don't sound like that."

"Sure you don't. Now eat your damn icecreams so we can go home."

"You have to admit, Bobby," said Sam, "this place isn't half bad."

"But it isn't real," Bobby replied. There was an air of sadness about him as he spoke. "Oh, I know it's the real Italy, and not some illusion, but it's not our lives. Even if I stayed here for twenty years, I'd still be expecting the monsters to come crawling out of the woodwork. How long do you think this place will last if Lucifer gets that croatoan virus up and running? It's only real for as long as it remains like this. The moment something bad happens, it'll become just another broken society."

Neither Dean nor Sam spoke again as they finished off their icecreams. Bobby's words had obviously touched them deeply, and they had touched Avariel too. He had such a bleak view of the world, and could barely see the beauty of it through the darkness. Was this, she wondered, an effect of his paralysis? Was be being unnecessarily bleak, or just realistic? It wasn't an easy thing to judge. Although she had watched him, she did not know him well enough yet to understand his reasoning. It was something she planned to rectify in the coming days.

o - o - o - o - o

When Avariel teleported herself and Bobby back to his house, followed by Castiel bringing Sam and Dean, it had been dusk in Italy, but it was still early afternoon back in America. Bobby immediately ordered the Winchesters back to the books, and Castiel left, claiming he had things to do elsewhere. A little tired by her teleportation, Avariel requested the use of the spare bedroom upstairs.

"What, you need to sleep or something?" Dean asked. It sounded almost as if he was mocking her.

"No. At least, I don't think so," she said truthfully. "I would like to experience sleep some time, but not today. I would like to be alone for a while, to observe what is happening around the world and try to find something that may help us."

"The room's yours for as long as you need it," Bobby told her.

"Thank you."

She teleported directly to the room and sat down in one of the armchairs in front of the unlit fire. Removing her shoes and settling herself into a position that was comfortable for her vessel, she engaged her Watcher-vision and felt the room fade away into the background as her eyes scanned the Earth. There was suffering everywhere, and the majority of it wasn't even related to the forthcoming apocalypse. In the east, people were oppressed and at war. Endangered animals were fighting for survival, and slowly losing their battles. In Africa, famine had been marching across the land for decades, slowly turning what had been fertile land into desert. Children died of malnourishment, thirst and diseases. In America and western nations, people were made homeless or fell victim to their own vices; drug and alcohol addiction, obesity, depression. In the southern American continent, people lived in squalor, their lives controlled by drug barons, and thousands of square kilometers of precious rainforest were torn up in the name of progress, reduced to bare, scorched Earth.

How greatly the face of the planet had changed within the past few thousand years! Humans had risen up and seized everything around them, taking land, destroying trees, polluting oceans, killing and burning and maiming, and they could not even hear how the Earth cried in pain, they could not hear the dying songs of the species which went extinct. Poor, pitiful, deaf creatures, they were oblivious to the harm they were causing to the planet.

Of course, they were not all the same. Some humans fought for what they believed in. They resisted destructive change. But it wasn't enough. Pharmaceutical companies hoarded medicine, selling it to exploit the misery and suffering of others. Forests were torn down to make room for housing or farmland. The planet was reaching is sustainable capacity, but the human population was showing no signs of stagnating. Some of the angels, she knew, considered humans a plague on the Earth. They thought the apocalypse was a way of culling the population, of reducing it to a more manageable size. God had done it once before, they reasoned, when he had sent floods to cleanse the Earth of the Nephilim, the wicked humans, and the angels who had betrayed Heaven. This wasn't any different.

Avariel did not see it that way. A flood ordained by God to wipe out abominations was not the same as a fight between two brothers who were desperate for their father's love. Lucifer, the most beloved son of God, could not stand that his Father had a new favourite in humanity. And Michael could not stand that Lucifer had rebelled against their Father. It was all so ridiculously petty, and Avariel wanted to stop it, to try and make them see sense. Unfortunately, nobody listened to grigori. They thought they knew better because they were older and created first. They just would not listen to reason.

She was struck suddenly with a heart-breaking thought; Heaven would never be the same again. Even if she was somehow able to return, she would be alone. Almost ninety percent of the grigori had joined the rebellion, and now almost ninety percent of the grigori were dead. Those who had chosen not to rebel and remain loyal to the arch-angels would be the only ones left, kept on leashes far shorter by now. The angels who had been her friends since their creation were now dead, nothing more than memories. The sheer amount of devastation was almost overwhelming to consider.

Bartholomew had been the first lost, and the most painful. He had been her superior, and a member of the same Order. Each Order had its own chief grigori, but the chiefs merely reported to their respective arch-angels. Avariel had not even caught a glimpse of an arch-angel in centuries, until Bartholomew had come to her with new orders. He had died first, but his death was not the last. A few weeks after Avariel had restarted the rebellion, her friends Mayar and Kistal, from the Order of Michael, and Tomelin from the Order of Raphael, had been charged with treason, accused of conspiring against Heaven, and executed. They had died protecting her; despite being tortured, they had not told the arch-angels who had set the grigori rebelling once more. Her anonymity had been preserved, for a short time, and she had continued to organise the resistance.

Now, the rebellion had ended. The resistance was dead, along with the grigori who had participated in it. She turned her eyes inwards, now, and remembered the moment it had all started.

_ She was in Heaven. Not her own Heaven, because angels could create no Heaven of their own. No, this was the Heaven of a young girl who had died of hypothermia after falling into a winter pond and becoming trapped under the ice. In this Heaven, there was no winter, no pond, and no ice. Just the girl and her dog, Bubbles, playing in the park. This was one of the happiest memories for the girl, and now she could experience it forever._

_ Avariel was formless. She let her formless self rest at ease amongst the tree-tops of the Heavenly park, and though she was present in Heaven, her main focus was on the Earth. Her vision was limitless; she could see the head on a pin in a house in England, where an elderly woman was sewing a blanket for her first great grandchild. She could see the scales on a salmon as it leapt out of a river in America, fighting its way upstream to return to its birthing place and so begin the cycle anew. She could see the freckle on the cheek of a young boy in Australia as he watched his older brothers surfing in the crashing waves and wished he too could be out there navigating the breakers. She watched everything and nothing, all at once, for the Eyes of Heaven did not sleep and they did not discriminate; a salmon was no more or less important than a great grandchild._

_ When she first became aware that she was not alone in this tiny slice of Heaven, she did nothing. Sometimes, angels passed through, on their way to other places, other Heavens of other people who had died and now continued in eternal happiness. Other angels rarely paid Avariel any attention. The grigori were ever-present, but they did not interact with angels or humans, and they did not interact with the souls of the dead in Heaven. They merely were, and they Watched._

_ The angel did not pass through the Heaven of the dead girl. In fact, the angel took a form from the memory; it became the shape of the dead girl's father, and it called out to Avariel. Immediately, she recognised Bartholomew, her chief. It had been almost a year since she had seen Bartholomew, because she'd had very little of worth to report. Unlike most angels, grigori were not highly sociable or naturally gregarious. They Watched, alone, for extended periods of time, and reported back to their superiors whenever they had something worth noting. When they did come together, they were amicable, and they discussed their observations, compared their findings, told anecdotes about the amusing things the humans were getting up to, but they were fully capable of going for years, even decades, without the contact of another angel. Usually lone, but never lonely; it was hard to feel lonely, when you had the whole world to watch._

_ Avariel descended from the trees where she was resting and took another form from the girl's memory; that of her mother. In the background, the girl and her dog continued to play, neither sensitive to the presence of the angels. Bartholomew's dark-haired illusion was dressed in a grey suit, whilst the form that Avariel took wore a long green skirt and a dark blue blouse. Both forms looked real, but neither was._

_ "Avariel," Bartholomew said. "It has been a while."_

_ "Yes," she agreed. "I am surprised to see you here, Bartholomew. You have never sought me out before."_

_ "I come because I have a task for you," he said. His silver eyes shone brightly in the pale pink face, and she knew hers looked no different._

_ "A task?" she asked, confused. She already had a task. All grigori had the same task. Watch the Earth._

_ "We have new orders, at last," he said._

_ She did not have a real body, but she still felt cold. New orders could mean only one thing._

_ "He... has returned?" she asked, fearful and optimistic at the same time._

_ Bartholomew shook his head. "No. But he has contacted me. He has a plan. A very good plan. And once it is complete, he will return."_

_ Had she a heart, it would have skipped a beat. For too long had her master been absent from Heaven. For too long had he been walking the Earth with the mortals. For too long, she and Bartholomew and the others of their Order had been required to report to Michael and Raphael._

_ "What do you want me to do?" she asked._

_ "There is somebody we must Watch. I want you to carry out this task. It is very important."_

_ His words concerned her. If it was important, and she got it wrong, it might have terrible repercussions. "Must it be me? If it is important, wouldn't you rather do it?"_

_ "Of course I would," he said, a little harshly. She flinched at his tone. "But I am too obvious a choice. You are less known. Less important. The arch-angels will not suspect you."_

_ She nodded, bowing to his wisdom. If he said she was the best to Watch, then she would Watch as best she could. "I will do as you say," she agreed._

_ "And if you are questioned by Raphael or Michael on your activities?"_

_ She hesitated. To disobey an angel meant punishment. To disobey an arch-angel meant death. And death for angels was final. They possessed no souls, and could not be given a place in Heaven. But Bartholomew needed her help, and if it would bring about the return of her true leader, then she would do everything within her power to make it so._

_ "I will... say nothing to them. Please, tell me what to do," she said._

_ "You are aware of what has been happening with the Seals?"_

_ "Of course." All angels were aware of __**that**__. The last Seal was about to be broken. Lucifer was about to walk free. Michael seemed confident he could stop his brother. Avariel didn't doubt Michael's abilities, just his methods. Their war would destroy humanity._

_ "The traitorous angel who helped the Winchesters... Castiel... he has just been resurrected. We suspect our Father's hand in this matter."_

_ She inhaled sharply. No angel had seen God for a very long time._

_ "This makes him of importance," Bartholomew continued. "You will Watch him closely."_

_ "But... why?"_

_ "Because we have been instructed to do so. He may continue to help the Winchesters, and if that is the case, then we can use him. But we must keep him hidden from the eyes of Michael... and Raphael, especially. No other grigori must be given the chance to Watch him. As of this moment, you and I are the only ones aware of his resurrection. There is still time for you to claim the right of Watching. I will come to you, following no schedule, to hear your reports. Do you understand?"_

_ "I will Watch Castiel," she repeated back, her head bowed. "If questioned, I will withhold the truth."_

_ "Good. I knew I made the correct choice, in coming to you with this. Take care, Avariel. Watch closely. I will return when I am able."_

It had been the first of several visits. Bartholomew came to her randomly, to hear what she had observed, and pass it on to their master. She held nothing back. She told Bartholomew that Castiel had begun helping the Winchesters again. She told him that Michael and Raphael had allowed the Seals to be broken, and had even aided in their breaking, to bring about the apocalypse. It was that news which had spurred Bartholomew into action. He began sounding out other grigori, starting at first with their own Order. From there he had moved on to the other two Orders, and through persuasion and his own charisma, had convinced them that what the arch-angels were doing was wrong. If they did not resist, he told them, the Earth would be destroyed. How could they claim to be children of God, and yet allow his creation to end with such a fate?

His words had excited Avariel, and scared her. It was one thing for the pair of them to be watching a single fallen angel, but quite another to be instigating a resistance in Heaven. She had confided her fears to her superior one day, when he came to hear her report.

_ "Bartholomew," she said, "I am concerned. How long can we continue like this? How long will our actions remain unnoticed by the arch-angels."_

_ "I don't know," he admitted. "But they are our orders. I don't intend to disobey them. Do you?"_

_ She looked at the ground, and spoke in a whisper. "No."_

_ He used his illusionary hand to lift her chin, and smiled at her, his silver eyes shining with approval. "We do our Father's work, Avariel. This was his last instruction to us, before he disappeared. I know you are afraid. I am too. But we are also not alone. We have each other. Most of the grigori agree with us. We have their support."_

And, just like that, Bartholomew's resistance became her resistance. "I" became "we", and "mine" became "ours." He trusted her more, after that. He confided in her each time he came to her. And once, not long before it all started going wrong, he shared with her his most valuable secret.

_"He whispers to me," Bartholomew admitted. "I can barely hear him speaking, at times, but when I am able to hear, he tells me of his Plan. Would you like to hear the Plan, Avariel?"_

_ "Yes," she said._

_ "Are you sure? Once you know the Plan, there is no going back. Once you know the Plan, you will be committed to carrying it out. If I should fall, you must take my place. Do you still want to hear it?"_

_ "Tell me."_

_ So he told her the Plan. She listened. It sounded like madness... but nobody had ever accused her master of being perfectly sane. And the Plan had the potential to save countless lives, both human and angel. But there was one thing she did not understand._

_ "Bartholomew," she said, "how am I supposed to continue without you? He does not speak to me."_

_ "There is a way. But you cannot do it from here. You must go to the Earth. Take a vessel."_

_ "That is forbidden!"_

_ "Don't worry about it. He's working on a... loophole."_

_ "There can be no loopholes, where the Decree is concerned." She was sure of that much._

_ "The loophole does not exist yet. But don't worry. When the time is right, it will be there. And once it is there, it will have always been there."_

_ "So... what happens then? Once I am on Earth, and I have a vessel?"_

_ "There is a sequence of numbers. It is very important that you remember them."_

_He told her the numbers, and she remembered them. Even when she came to Earth and took a vessel, she remembered them. Even when she was battling Zachariah, and then caged in a circle of fire, she remembered them. And now that she was free, she remembered them. All she had to do now was bide her time. She had not come this far to ruin everything with haste._

Back in the spare bedroom, Avariel felt a presence in the room with her. It was dark outside, now; she had been Watching the rest of the world, and her own memories, for hours, and yet it only felt like moments to her inner clock. She didn't bother moving, or speaking. She had learnt long ago that sometimes patience was the greatest virtue a person could possess.

"I need to ask you something," Castiel said, and she judged him to be not far behind her chair. "And I need you to give me straight answers, with no sarcastic remarks or half-truths or poorly executed jokes."

"None of my jokes are poorly executed," she said. Then, she extended her mind from her body, touching the logs in the fireplace with a small lashing of mental heat. They burst into flames, and began to burn, casting light and warmth into the room. "Ask your questions."

He stepped in front of the fire, so he could watch her face as he spoke. Whether he was looking for signs of deception she did not know, but he would see none. Unless he asked some very... awkward... questions, she had no reason to lie to him or deceive him in any way. Despite the enjoyment she got from aggravating him, she respected everything he had done, everything he had sacrificed because he felt he was doing the right thing. Even though he didn't know it, he was the one who had started the grigori rebellion.

"You can see everything," he said. Even though it wasn't a question, she nodded, and waited. He seemed to be having conflicting thoughts. She could see the indecision on the face of his vessel, and in his cold blue eyes. Whatever it was, it wasn't easy for him to ask. "Is God dead?"

"No," she said, with confidence. "God cannot be killed. Our Father will exist until the end of the universe. He will be the penultimate thing to go."

"Then where is He?" Castiel's eyes were troubled. She understood, now, why he was so conflicted. He wanted answers from his Father, but his Father was nowhere to be found. Raphael had told him that God was dead, but all anybody truly knew was that God was no longer in Heaven giving the orders.

"I don't know," she admitted. "Maybe He is here, on Earth. Maybe He is on a different world, or in a different reality."

"Can't you look for Him? As a Watcher, you are privy to all that happens, are you not?"

"Technically, yes. But even my sight has limits, and some things are simply too bright for me to look at. God is one of those things. The truth is, I have never seen him. No grigori has seen him, since Samyaza was cast out of Heaven. And I firmly believe that if I was to look for Him, He would take my sight from me." She leant forward in her chair. "Our Father does not want to be found, Castiel. I don't know why. Maybe He left us alone to see if we could fend for ourselves. Maybe He wanted us to step out from his shadow, and begin making our own decisions. Maybe He wants to see whether we will keep obeying, or whether we will just burn the Earth for the fun of it to spite Him. I wish I had answers to give you, I truly do. If I thought that God could be convinced to stop the apocalypse, I would join you in searching for Him. But He must know what is happening, and for some reason, He does not want to interfere too much. But He brought you back, and He pulled Dean and Sam from Lucifer's grasp and put them on a plane above the prison door. He saved you. All of you. That makes you important. Keep doing what you are doing, and perhaps our Father will reveal himself again."

"You speak with such conviction. Do you truly believe the words that you say?"

"With all my heart," she said. He gave her a look of suspicion. "Why do you not trust me, brother?"

"You have to ask?"

"I know," she sighed. "The grigori are untrustworthy sinners."

"That is not the reason why. Not the whole reason, anyway."

"Please enlighten me."

"You have been Watching me?" She nodded. "Then you are already enlightened. Perhaps you were not Watching as closely as you thought, or perhaps you failed to see that Uriel betrayed me and tried to kill me. That Michael and Raphael arranged for Lucifer to be released from his prison. That angels dragged me back to Heaven and forced me into compliance. That Raphael ended my existence for standing up to him. That Anna tried to kill my friends and their parents. You tell me, Avariel, why 'trust' is not something I have an abundance of, right now."

She could find no comforting words. He would not have believed her, if she had told him that she was not like the others. He had braced himself so completely for betrayal that he saw threats everywhere, and he would continue to do so until there was nothing left to threaten him. He was beyond a heartfelt plea or a well-meaning reassurance.

"You will trust me, in the end," she said.

"Right. When you help us to stop the apocalypse," he said sarcastically.

"Or when I die trying." He did not look as if he believed her, and she was running out of patience. "I know you don't trust me, Castiel," she said, "but I am here. I'm not going anywhere. And for as long as I am here, I am going to help, and save lives. Whether you believe me or not makes no difference to me. We might never be friends, but that doesn't mean we have to be enemies. If you need my help, ask, and you shall have it."

"Pretty words," he replied. "But until you have proven yourself, that's all they are. If I needed help, you would be the last angel on Earth or in Heaven that I would go to."

He teleported away, leaving Avariel alone once more. Castiel's words saddened her; how damaged he must be, how hurt by his fellow angels, to say such things. He was right to question her loyalties, because there were many things she had not spoken of, things which would not leave the angel or the brothers inclined to trust her. But she truly did have their best interests at heart. Just because she served another master did not mean she wished to harm them. She was still a grigori, and she still cared for humanity.

For the moment, there was nothing she could do about Castiel. Now that she was on Earth, watching him was no longer as important; she did it only to keep him from the Eyes of Heaven, and to keep tabs on the Winchesters. Now that she was here, she had somebody else to find. She turned her silver eyes towards the rest of the world, and began to search.

o - o - o - o - o

For two days Avariel remained in the bedroom upstairs. For two days she searched, scouring every corner of the Earth, but she could not find what she was looking for. Some things were hidden from her view; certain beasts, spirits, witches, demons and angels could hide themselves from the sight of Heaven, either through their innate abilities or magic. There were also 'dark spots' on the Earth, areas which generated certain fields that could bend light and reality in such a way that they became murky areas, invisible to even a Watcher's eyes.

Her searching was frustratingly fruitless, so she decided to take a break. The house was suspiciously quiet, and when she descended the stairs, she heard no voices talking. Glancing out of the window she noticed the Impala was gone from the front of the house, and she felt a brief moment of worry. Had somebody come and taken the boys from right beneath her nose? She worried until she stepped into the study, and found Bobby sitting behind his desk, looking like he was in desperate need of a good night's sleep and a shave.

"Hello, Bobby," she said, and he jumped at her silent arrival.

"Avariel," he replied, trying to behave like she hadn't frightened him. "How's the Watching going?"

"I see many things," she said vaguely. "Where are Sam and Dean? I noticed their car is gone."

"They got restless legs," he said. "There's only so much research they can do before they need to go out and find some action. They went off to investigate a rumour of werewolves."

"I see," she said. It did not fail to escape her notice that he didn't tell her _where_ the boys had gone. Perhaps he was worried she would go rushing after them, leaving him alone, or perhaps he still didn't trust her. Either way, it didn't matter. What the Winchesters were doing right now was not important. "How is your research going?"

"I feel like every time I turn a page, I hit a brick wall," he admitted.

She nodded. She knew just how he felt. She'd hit more than one brick wall herself, over the past two days. And she'd also come to realise something. Right now, she needed Bobby's help with a problem, and she wasn't sure whether he would agree to help her.

"Bobby," she said, "I need to ask something of you."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"I need you to give me an order."

Both of his eyebrows rose towards his hairline. "You _want_ me to order you to do something?"

"No. It is not a matter of _want_, but of _need_."

"Alright. I'll bite. What do you need?"

She took a deep breath. Once the words were spoken, there could be no going back. She would be fully committed to this course of action. But it had to be this way. She steeled herself.

"You must order me not to return to Heaven."

"Come again?"

"Heaven. Please order me not to return there."

"Is this a joke? You've been cast out of Heaven, haven't you? Why would you even _want_ to return there?"

"I don't want to," she assured him. "Not right now, anyway. But other angels might come for me. They may attempt to take me back, to punish me, or interrogate me."

"You mean like they did with Cas?"

"Yes. I don't know if I can withstand interrogation. They might try to use me, to find out about you, and Dean, and Sam. I cannot allow that to happen."

"So... if I order you not to return to Heaven, they won't be able to take you back there?"

"That's right. An arch-angel could still force me to return, but that would mean breaking my oath, and I would be destroyed instantly. No chance for interrogation."

The look on his face spoke of surprise and disbelief. "Has it occurred to you that if I order you not to return to Heaven, an arch-angel might drag you back anyway, just to be rid of you?"

"Yes. But it is better that I die and they learn nothing, than I am interrogated and tell them everything. Please, Bobby. As my oath-keeper, you are the only one who can do this. It is your responsibility to protect yourself and the boys."

"Well, if you're sure," he said hesitantly. "Avariel, I order you not to return to Heaven."

She smiled. "Thank you, Bobby. I feel more... at ease... now that the order is in place. Is there anything I can do for you in return?"

"Finding a way to help us stop Lucifer would be useful."

"Of that I am aware. If I come across anything that could help, I will let you know. But I was speaking more of different things. I don't know about you, but I would like to go... hunting."

"_You_ want to go hunting? What for?"

She took a seat, perching on the edge of his desk. "I would like to find a demon."

"That doesn't sound like something a sane person says."

"Perhaps not. But my motives are a little selfish. I would like to see if I am capable of exorcising a demon, or whether that ability was taken from me when I was cut off from Heaven."

"So what do you need me for?"

"Back-up," she said. "In case something goes wrong."

"Look," he sighed, "I know what you're trying to do, and I don't need it."

"What do you mean?"

"You're trying to make me feel useful again. It isn't necessary. You're more than capable of handling a demon on your own."

"I'm not!" she insisted truthfully. "I've never had a body before. I don't even know how to fight."

"You went up against Zachariah and you don't even know how to _fight_?"

"It's not the same," she told him. "I merely let Zachariah hurt me, so that my own pain would be inflicted on him. Of course, I have watched martial artists for centuries, but I've never fought anything before. I need your advice, and your guidance. Please, Bobby. I need to know what abilities are left to me, what my strengths and weaknesses are. I need you to help me learn how to survive."

"Yeah, right," he scoffed. "You need crippled old Bobby Singer to teach you how to get by. What are you, like five thousand years old or something?"

"Or something."

"So figure it out on your own."

"I could," she admitted. "I'm not stupid. But on my own, I'm going to make mistakes. I may be an angel, but I'm not infallible. I have plenty of knowledge, but no experience. I'd really like to have you watching my back."

He narrowed his eyes, giving her a skeptical stare. "So you're not just saying this stuff to make me feel useful and needed?"

"Oh yeah, I came down from Heaven just so I could hang around with you and be your raison d'être. I could be out there saving countless lives right now, and the only thing stopping me from doing that is the fact that you need someone to keep you company."

"No need to lay on the sarcasm, I get it. If you want me to wheel along after you and watch you kick demon ass, I'll do it. Personally I think that if you want back-up, you're better off waiting for Cas and the boys."

She smiled. "I like you better."

"Huh. Well... can't say I blame you. I'd pick me over those hot-headed idjits too. So, where are we going to?"

Avariel switched on what Dean had termed her 'Watcher-vision', and scanned around the house in a radius of a couple of hundred miles. There was a small dark ripple on the land, and she focused on that area, saw the town, the buildings, and then the face of the demon in the human it was possessing.

"I have located a demon. I believe it is alone, and should prove suitable for testing myself against."

"Well alright. Let me grab some supplies, and then we'll go exorcise us a demon."

o - o - o - o - o

Avariel teleported herself and Bobby to a quiet alley in the town centre. She had managed to find herself a black leather jacket, which had once belonged to Jo, and her pockets were filled with vials of holy water; an essential tool in fighting demons, Bobby told her. Both she and the hunter were also carrying bags containing different weapons; both mêlée weapons and guns, as well as a tub of grey paint and a brush. She could hardly expect the demon to stand still and be compliant whilst she tried to exorcise it, so she and Bobby had come up with the Plan.

"Where's the demon now?" Bobby asked her, lowering his bag to the floor.

She briefly engaged her Watcher-vision, checking on the demon's progress. "It's inside a café a few blocks from here."

"What's it doing there?"

"Ordering lunch, it would seem."

"Really? With Lucifer free, I thought demons the world over would be engaging in wholesale slaughter by now."

"It's more likely this one is a spy," she told him. "There are probably hundreds like it, in towns and cities across America, perhaps even across the whole world. They wait, and watch, and report back to Lucifer, helping him to choose his next targets."

"So... the demonic version of Watchers?"

"But far less benevolent."

He nodded. Of course, he knew exactly what demons were. This one would be shown no mercy. "Let's go over the plan one last time," he said.

"I am capable of remembering a plan, Bobby," she said, one corner of her mouth pulling into a smile. He was like this with Dean and Sam, too, always making sure they knew just what they were supposed to be doing, always double-checking to ensure their safety.

"Humour me."

"Very well. I am to allow the demon to see me. It will recognise me as an angel of the Lord. I will employ my wonderful acting skills to appear afraid of it. When I flee, it will give chase, and I will lead it here, into the devil's trap, where I will hopefully exorcise it with my slightly-less-than-divine touch. Have I understood the plan correctly?"

"It'll do. But no heroics, okay? We're doing this one by the book."

"Which book?" she asked, unfamiliar with the term despite her familiarity with human platitudes in general.

Bobby rolled his eyes. "It doesn't matter. Just get going. And don't get back too quickly, I have a devil's trap to paint."

"As you command."

She walked out of the alley and looked around. People were walking up and down the street, but they mostly ignored her. They were so wrapped up in their own tiny lives that they barely even saw her at all, except as an obstacle to be stepped around. How very like angels they were, at times.

Down the street she walked, in the direction of the café. She did not hurry, but walked at a comfortable pace, enjoying the sights around her. This was the first town she had been to, since taking a vessel, and it was noisier than she had thought it would be. Also, the air smelt less clean. It wasn't much like the farm, where Katie had grown up.

When she saw the café, she looked both ways before crossing the street, because road safety was very important. Sure that no traffic was coming, she crossed the road and reached the opposite pavement, smiling at her accomplishment. Her first road crossed. And soon, her first demon exorcism. Today was going to be a day of firsts, she decided.

It took her a moment to figure out how to open the door, but when she discovered that the side with the handle was the one that need to be pushed, she managed it without much difficulty. There was a sound as the door opened, and she looked up to see a small bell suspended above the door, which she supposed was to make a person feel welcome, as well as to alert the staff to the presence of a new customer. Very clever. In the olden days, a servant would have announced the arrival of a guest. Now, humans had a tiny piece of metal to do that for them. Was there any end to their ingenuity?

Upon entering the café, she stepped aside to allow another customer to exit, and looked around for the demon. She did not see it at first, because its back was towards her, but as soon as it turned its head she saw its true face, a grotesque, corrupted caricature of the human it had once been. To her eyes, there was nothing more ugly in the whole of existence than the face of a demon. This one was possessing the body of a young man, tall, athletic, probably attractive by human standards, wearing a suit. None of the other humans around him saw what he truly was. The term 'wolf in sheep's clothing' described the demons so perfectly that it could have been coined for them.

Her skin went cold when the demon looked at her; an instinctive reaction to its presence. When its eyes went briefly black, she stepped backwards, towards the door. The demon sneered at her, and she turned and fled. This time she did not stop to take road safety into consideration. She was supposed to be fleeing for her life, not proceeding to the emergency exit in an orderly fashion. In fact, she was almost hit by a car which managed to swerve at the last moment, and only when she was across the road did she risk a look back, to see ensure the demon was still following.

It was.

She increased her pace, running down the street, weaving in and out of people. Cries of alarm from behind told her that the demon was not being so considerate, and was likely shoving people out of the way in an effort to get to her. So focused was she on running, that she almost missed the turn for the alley, and skidding around the corner at the last moment, dashing forward in the direction of the alley's exit. She could see no sign of Bobby, nor of the devil's trap, but that had been the idea. It was why they had brought grey paint and not red; easier to conceal in a dark alley.

Halfway down the narrow alley, she stopped and turned, but continued walking backwards. There was a figure at the entrance to the alley, and it strode confidently towards her, its face flashing as the demon writhed beneath the surface. It gave her a horrible smile.

"Well well," it said, "look what wandered into my path. An angel... separated from the rest of the flock, perhaps? Why did you run, little angel? Afraid to face me in public? Afraid to show the humans what happens when a demon kills one of your kind?"

"Actually," she replied, as the demon stepped into the trap, "I was trying to lure you into this alley. Congratulations; you're the dumbest demon on the planet."

When it could not pass the outer ring of the trap, it realised how much trouble it was in and hissed angrily at her. Bobby appeared from behind a dumpster, wheeling himself down the alley to where the demon was stuck like a fly in amber.

"Good work," he said appreciatively.

"Thank you. Now, let's see what it takes to get rid of one of these."

She stepped into the devil's trap, and the demon lunged for her. She parried its strike easily enough, turning it on the spot and pinning its arm behind its back as she placed her right hand against its forehead. Focusing, she opened her mind to channel the divine wrath of God through her body, and... nothing. The demon started to laugh derisively.

"What's the matter, angel?" it chuckled menacingly. "Forgot to eat your spinach?"

She released the demon, pushing it away from her as she stepped out of the circle. Bobby gave her a sympathetic look, and she rolled her shoulders, trying to seem unconcerned by her failure. It was disappointing; demon-smiting was an angel's best ability. Without Heaven's power at her disposal, she was little more than a super-strong, highly intelligent teleporting human being. But she had known this might happen, when she had relinquished her place in Heaven, and it wasn't as if she'd spent her time smiting demons in the past. The ability was something she couldn't really miss because she'd never really had it. She would just have to adapt.

"I guess I'll have to do this the old fashioned way," she said. Closing her eyes, she recalled the incantation.

_"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus_

_ omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio_

_ infernalis adversarii, omnis legio,_

_ omnis congregatio et secta diabolica._

_ Ergo draco maledicte_

_ et omnis legio diabolica_

_ adjuramus te._

_ Cessa decipere humanas creaturas,_

_ eisque aeternae Perditionis venenum propinare._

_ Vade, Satana, inventor et magister_

_ omnis fallaciae, hostis humanae salutis._

_ Humiliare sub potenti manu dei,_

_ contremisce et effuge, invocato a_

_ nobis sancto et terribili nomine,_

_ quem inferi tremunt._

_ Ab insidiis diaboli, libera nos, Domine._

_ Ut Ecclesiam tuam secura tibi facias libertate servire_

_ te rogamus, audi nos._

_ Ut inimicos sanctae Ecclesiae humiliare digneris,_

_ te rogamus, audi nos."_

Black smoke, the demon's incorporeal form, began to spew out of the host's mouth, and pooled on the ground inside the devil's trap. The human host fell to its knees, and Avariel could only imagine the pain and horror it was experiencing right now. Once all of the demon was out of the body, she raised her hand.

"Depart this world, demon," she commanded it. "Return to the Hell whence you came."

There was a flash of bright orange light, like a fire passing through the smoke. It sank into the ground, burning without heat as it went, until all that was left was char on the earth, and the quivering, weeping form of the human. She looked to Bobby.

"That went better than I had hoped."

"Yeah. You did alright," he said, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the human, who was trying to crawl upright from his hands and knees. Bobby wheeled his chair forward, coming to a stop just before the crying man. "Are you alright, kid?"

"That... that thing was inside me," the man said. The whites of his eyes were red, and his nose was all runny. Upset humans were... messy, Avariel decided. They leaked everywhere. "For weeks. It... it made me do things. I could hear its thoughts. It wanted me to kill people. Am... am I going to Hell?"

Bobby looked to Avariel for assistance. She stepped forward, and switched on her Watcher-vision. She really _was_ going to have to come up with a better name for her innate ability, she realised. But for now, she had a human to console.

"Rise," she commanded, and the man looked at her, pushing himself finally to his feet. "You know what was inside you?"

"Y—yes," he sniffed, wiping a sleeve across his face.

"And you know what I am?"

"The... the thing... it thought you were an angel."

"I am. And you need not fear. I am watching over you, now. If a demon should come for you again, I will see it. I will return and banish it, as I banished this one. Go now. Lead a good life, help your fellows and pray to God. Do these things, and you will not have to fear going to Hell."

"Yes, of course! I will!" he said, eagerness for redemption in his eyes. "I swear, I'll do all that you say. Thank you, angel. Thank you!"

"Do not thank me, thank God, for I do his work," she said. "Return to your home now, and rest."

The man turned and fled the alley without even a backwards glance. Bobby huffed unhappily, and Avariel let her eyes turn back to blue as she turned her questioning gaze on him.

"You do not approve?" she asked.

"You coulda just told him that he's not going to Hell for what the demon did to him," he chastised. "Was there any need for the preaching?"

"I believe so, yes," she explained. "I do not decide who goes to Heaven, and who goes to Hell, nor do I know if that man has committed past transgressions. I have merely given him what he needs to ensure that any wrong he has ever done can be redeemed, and his soul saved by my Father if necessary."

"So are you doing this to save people, or make them worship God more?"

"A little of both," she admitted. "It is no secret that faith in my Father is declining. As science and technology advance, belief in my Father wanes. People no longer worship as they used to; they turn their thoughts and their prayers instead to their things, to their mobile telephones, their televisions, their twenty-four-hour convenience stores. Celebrities propagate idolatry, and people prostrate themselves at the shrines of the neon gods they've made. The godless people fill the airwaves with so-called evidence that there is no greater design or purpose to creation, except to serve as an example of natural order in a chaotic universe. Did you know, that the devil's greatest triumph was convincing the modern world that he does not exist? And because there is no devil, there can be no God, either. So yes, I am going to use what I am, and what I can do, to convince as many people as I can to believe in my Father. Because from where I'm standing, he doesn't seem inclined to do it himself."

"If God doesn't care whether people believe in him, then why do you?" he countered.

"Because somebody has to." She crouched down in front of him, to speak to him on his own level. "I don't know why my Father left Heaven. I don't know why he stopped commanding us, or why he stopped sending miracles to Earth, to convince people to worship him. But I intend to continue where he left off. I may not be able to perform true miracles, but I can save lives. I do not want people to worship me for this. I do not want to become yet another false idol. I merely want them to continue believing in my Father. Perhaps, if enough people believe, he will come back, and make all of this right."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I have to."

Bobby nodded in understanding. "I hear ya. I just wish I had your faith."

"The only thing stopping you from having faith, is you. Take the first step, and the rest becomes a little easier."

"And that in itself is easier said than done." He looked at the now useless devil's trap, and sighed. "So, what now?"

She activated her Watcher-vision once more, and something immediately sprang out.

"A young child is about to be hit by a bus in Maine. Time is of the essence. May I go and save him?"

"Yes, for the love of God, don't wait for—"

She did not wait to hear the rest of his sentence. Permission for her to depart granted, she teleported straight to the child's side, grasping his shoulder and teleporting again to the opposite side of the street. The bus roared past in a blur of engine and horn, and a woman screamed. Avariel's short hair was whipped by the breeze of the passing vehicle, and the five year old boy, still held by his shoulder, began to shake with fear.

A woman ran across the road, shouting the boy's name, careless of the traffic which beeped at her. Her eyes were fixed on the boy, and as soon as she reached Avariel she dropped to her knees and pulled her shaken son into a tight embrace, murmuring "Thomas, Thomas," over and over.

Avariel watched the pair with interest. She had often observed that non-violent physical contact was used to reassure a person, and to convey closeness, a sense of belonging, and comfort. In this case, however, the mother seemed not to be doing it to reassure the child, but to reassure herself that the child was alive and unharmed. When the woman finally turned her tear-stained face to Avariel, there was such gratitude in her eyes that Avariel decided she needed to do this more often.

"Thank you so much," the woman said. "I just turned my back for one minute, and he was gone. When I saw the bus... I thought I'd lost my son. I don't know how you reached him in time." The woman stared for a moment. "What's wrong with your eyes?"

"Nothing is wrong with my eyes," she said. "I am an angel of the Lord. This is what my eyes look like."

The woman continued to stare, as did several members of the crowd which was gathering in response to the near-tragedy. Avariel ignored them, and knelt down to address the boy.

"Thomas, you must be more careful when crossing the street in future. Before stepping into the road, you should stop, look, and listen. Check both directions for oncoming traffic, and do not set off unless the road is clear both ways. When you are halfway across, check again, just in case a vehicle is approaching at speed. Do you understand?"

The boy nodded mutely, his eyes wide and his face pale. Her work here done, Avariel stood, and looked at the gathering crowd. Suddenly, she felt uncomfortable. She had never been in a crowd of strangers before. Until now, her life in her vessel had consisted of people she knew because she had been watching them closely. And even though she hadn't technically known them personally for more than a week or two, she still felt comfortable with them. Bobby, the old warrior and keeper of knowledge, the patriarch, sensible and solid. Dean, the champion of Heaven, irreverent and determined to make his own decisions. Sam, the black sheep, equal parts scholar and fighter. Castiel, the fallen angel who answered their prayers and sometimes their phonecalls.

But these people, these strangers, were unknown to her, and they were looking at her with awe and deference, and even a little fear. She could not even find it within herself to make a speech about God; she simply teleported right out of the crowd, back to Bobby's side.

"Did you save the kid?" the grizzled hunter asked, as she arrived in a gust of wind.

"I am an angel," she replied, as much to settle her nerves as anything. "Of course I saved the kid."

"Good." He turned his chair around to face her. "You know, if any more of these emergencies crop up, you don't have to wait for me to say go. You have my permission to leave without warning, to save lives."

"Thank you," she said. "That is helpful."

"So... did you give 'em the God-speech?" he asked as he hefted his bag of unused supplies onto his knee.

"No," she admitted, glancing at the ground to avoid his eyes. "There was... a crowd. I did not feel comfortable... exposing myself to so many people at once."

Bobby chuckled.

"What's so funny?" she demanded.

"An angel getting performance anxiety."

"I do not have performance anxiety," she said tersely, disliking the tone of his accusation.

"Then... what? A crowd of people, ripe for the picking after witnessing a miracle, and you chose not to pluck the fruit from the tree?"

She teleported to the nearby dumpster, sitting on the top of it, her legs swinging over the edge. This line of conversation, she knew, was going to lead to questions. Questions she could not avoid answering.

"I suppose you think that all angels are like Castiel and his kind? Working in garrisons under the orders of seraphs and arch-angels, carrying out their missions to further the cause of Heaven?"

"That's what I _did_ think," he admitted. "Until I met you, anyway. I know that you aren't really like the others. You're different."

She nodded. "There was a time, after the fall of Samyaza and the others, when any group of grigori congregating in one place would draw the eyes of the arch-angels. We were not trusted. Groups of us who stayed together were interrogated, and if deemed any sort of threat, executed. Out of necessity we split up, each of us retreating to different parts of Heaven, to Watch in solitude. Every few years a few of us would come together, very briefly, to commune, and share our experiences, to remind ourselves that we were not alone. But, for the most part, we led solitary lives. When surrounded by a group, I feel some discomfort. When I first awoke in my vessel, and found myself recovering in a ring of fire, even being in the presence of you, Sam, Dean and Castiel, brought back feelings of unease, and painful reminders of the punishments inflicted on grigori for being too social. Just now, in the crowd in Maine, I felt almost as if the eyes of the arch-angels were upon me. It was not a pleasant sensation."

"Just to make sure I'm understanding you right... you spent the few thousand years before coming here alone in Heaven?" he asked.

"Mostly, yes. So... just give me some time to adjust, okay?"

"As far as I'm concerned, Avariel, you can have all the time in the world," he said, treating her to a brief smile before a familiar melancholy entered his eyes. "But I think we both know that you don't have all the time in the world. Neither of us has."

"Yes," she agreed sadly. "Lucifer. The apocalypse. The world is going to Hell. My life as I have known it is over." She shivered involuntarily. "For the first time in thousands of years, I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow. Do you know what that is like? For thousands upon thousands of years, my life has been constant, unchanging. I have never had power. I've never wanted it. But when Bartholomew came to me, I suddenly became important to somebody. To something. I found a cause. A mission. It gave me something that I had never had before, something unique and precious; perspective. And suddenly, I was willing to sacrifice it all. Against my better judgement, I was willing to risk all that I had to protect this world and the humans in it."

"I understand," he said. "You heard a call. Same call that many hunters hear. You found something to believe in, and you believe in it. Maybe you're more human than you realise."

She smiled at the aptness of the statement. "As above, so below," she said. "Do you know what I like most about humanity?"

"Right now I'm going with 'icecream sundaes'," he guessed.

"No. Creation. Your works of art and music, your poetries and your stories. I can appreciate them... especially the music. Grigori enjoy music, and there is music inside everything in this world, if you know how to listen. Icecream sundaes might come in second, though."

"Huh. Maybe we have more in common than either of us thought."

"We have the same Father. It's only natural."

"I guess so." He looked once more at the defunct demon trap. "Well, looks like our work here is done. We exorcised a demon, saved the host, and you even managed to throw a kid into the mix. Wanna call it a day and head back home?"

"Yes, I would like that," she said with a smile for the grizzled hunter. "Can we stop for icecream, on the way?"

_- o -_


	6. The Price of Peace

_**Fallen**_

_**Book 1: Angels, Angels, Everywhere**_

Chapter 6

_- The Price of Peace -_

Fire blazed in the rectangular pit, spewing acrid black smoke into the air. Bone was not an easy substance to burn, needing temperatures far hotter than those required of a wood-fire. The accelerant humans named 'petrol' or 'gasoline' made the task much easier though, and the bones within the open grave had been liberally doused in both gasoline and salt. Above the pit, Avariel stood looking down at the bones, musing on the existence of the human they had once been.

"So... that was a ghost," she said. There was a small cut on her cheek, from where the ghost had psychically pushed her forwards into a wall, and her flesh had found a sharp iron nail embedded within. It was a small injury, insignificant, and would heal in less than a few hours. Nothing worthy of her attention.

"Yeah, that was a ghost," Bobby agreed. He was sitting beside her in his wheelchair, a box of matches in his hands and a can of gas on the ground. He glanced up at her, and she sensed his concern. For the past two weeks, she had been sensing more and more of him, finding it easier to read his aura the more time they spent together. Now, she knew he was worried about her, and he confirmed it with his next words. "You okay?"

She shook her head, unable to pry her eyes away from the fire. "It was so... angry. I could feel its pain. Why would anybody choose to remain behind and become this?"

"Mostly, they don't know it's what they'll become," he replied. "I think grief holds them back. Grief and a sense of unfinished business. Normally, by the time a hunter gets to them, it's too late. Nine and a half times out of ten, we can only put them to rest by burning the remains. I wish the odds were better, but it's just the reality of life and death."

"I've seen them before," she said, and her vessel shivered at the memory. "When I Watched from Heaven, I saw them, wandering spirits of pain and anger. I rarely gave them a second thought. I knew that, eventually, a hunter would come along and put them to rest. There have always been hunters. Did you know that? Ever since mankind sat around the fires inside their caves and listened to the beasts growling and moaning from the shadows, hunters have existed to protect the tribe. Your kind go back to the dawn of humanity. And we Watched from above, and failed to understand why the spirits chose to remain. I think I understand, now."

"Look at me, Ava," he said, turning his chair to face her.

Ava. It was a nickname Dean had used for her the last time she had seen him. He and Sam were setting off on another hunt, leaving Bobby behind with his tame angel. '_You be a good girl for Uncle Bobby, Ava,'_ he'd said, with one of his trademark grins. He hadn't known, of course, that she and Bobby had been having daily excursions to hunt demons, but the nickname had stuck. It wasn't her real name, but it was a name that the humans now used for her, and she understood that such names were normally given to denote camaraderie. Even though it wasn't her name, she responded to it as if it was. It was her choice to do so, her choice to be Ava, as well as Avariel. And when Bobby commanded her to look at him, she had no choice but to comply.

"You've had a bit of a scare today," he said, his voice strong and steady as he imparted the benefit of his wisdom to her. "Demons you're fine with, because you know what they are, and how they work. But you've never seen a ghost before, not like this. The first time any hunter goes up against something unknown, it tends to scare the crap out of him. But you did good. Real good. You kept that ghost distracted until I could find its grave, and you dug the Earth up faster than anyone I've ever seen. Now, the ghost is at peace... I hope. But what matters is that it's not here anymore. It's not hurting innocent people. And if you plan on sticking around on Earth for a while, I can guarantee you're going to see more ghosts. So suck it up. Are you an angel, or a girl-scout?"

"I am an angel, of course. You know that already." She smiled, to show him that she would be okay. "I'm sure I would make an excellent girl-scout too, though. Making camp-fires and selling cookies. How hard could it be?"

"Heh, that's the spirit." He patted her arm, which had come to be a comforting gesture. "C'mon, let's pack up here and go home. We might still make it back in time to get washed up and get some icecream."

"Very well, but perhaps you should opt for something other than icecream. You lack an angel's metabolism, and I'd hate to see you grow too large for your chair."

"Why, you cheeky SOB," he growled, though she knew that he had taken the comment in the humour it had been intended.

Five minutes later Avariel teleported them both back to the front door of Bobby's house. She should have known there would be trouble when she noticed one of the lights inside the house was on, but her mind was so focused on her experience with the ghost that at first she didn't even register they were no longer alone. She followed Bobby into the study, and stopped walking the moment she saw Sam and Dean. She had not spent as much time with them as she had with Bobby, so she could not read their auras quite as accurately, but she could tell that Sam was sad and Dean was angry. The older brother's anger was so tightly leashed that he gave both she and Bobby a cold smile when they entered the room.

"Welcome home," he said. "Been somewhere?"

"Yeah, for icecream, if that's alright with you," Bobby said, and muttered 'idjit' under his breath.

Dean clearly didn't believe him. He strode forward, took the carryall from Bobby's lap and opened it up.

"Icecream? Really? You need a rifle full of rocksalt for _icecream?_" He dropped the gun on the floor. "You need a bag of salt for icecream?" A bag of salt followed the rifle, tiny white grains spilling everywhere. A lot of bad luck he'd just given himself. "You need an EMF reader, and a box of matches, and a copy of the frigging _bible_, to go get _icecream_? You went hunting, didn't you?"

"Boy, what I get up to in my time, in my house, is all of my business and none of yours," Bobby said, a deep scowl etched into his face. "Do you think I don't know how to take care of myself? Do you think that just because my legs don't work, my brain don't work either?"

"Bobby, you're not as capable as you once were," Dean said. Avariel could see the pain on his face, and wondered what was causing it.

"Oh, so just because I'm a cripple now, I should give up hunting and go training for the paralympics? Sure, let me just pack up all my books you've been using, and put away all my weapons you're carrying, and fill with concrete the panic room you're so fond of dragging things back to, and I'll head off for my new life as a paralympic gold medalist in kicking your damn ass."

"You can be as bitter and sarcastic as you want, but I can't be worrying about you too, Bobby. I'm out there, every day, worrying about myself, about Sam, about Lucifer and Michael, about trying to save the whole god-forsaken world. I need to know that you're here, safe. That at the end of the day, when I need someone to help me pick up the pieces, you're going to be here. That I don't have to worry about losing you as well."

"Dean," Avariel said, stepping forward to deflect some of his anger away from Bobby. "I would never put Bobby in any danger. We hunt only small things. Minor demons. Ghosts. We don't take risks. We are simply honing my skills."

"You," Dean said, rounding on her with his finger pointing at her, "do not get a say in this. You will sit down and be silent."

"I will not," she said angrily.

She grabbed his finger and, almost without thinking, teleported. One minute they were standing in Bobby's living room, the next minute they were deep inside in a dense, hot jungle, the sound of wild birds calling all around. Quickly, she let go of Dean's finger, taking a step back in case he tried to retaliate and forced her to hurt him. He didn't retaliate; he simply looked around, turning on the spot to survey the jungle around him. And when he turned back to her, his face was angry again.

"Where the hell are we?" he demanded.

"Hmm... Madagascar, judging by the presence of the lemurs," she said, pointing to a ringtail in the tree.

"Why are we in Madagascar?"

She shrugged. "I watched the animated movie yesterday on the television. I guess it was just on my mind at the time."

"Well you can take us back right now, or so help me God I'll..."

"You'll what?" she asked, waiting for an end to his empty threat.

"I'll call Cas," he said, with a triumphant gleam in his eyes. "And have him _haul_ you back to the house."

"And you'll call him how? Madagascar is not exactly famed for its excellent cellphone network coverage, and I doubt your GPS will work this deep within the mountain range."

In an attempt to prove her wrong he took his phone out of his pocket, tried to dial a number, then swore. She was not unsympathetic, but she did not want outside interference for this.

"Dean," she said, stepping forwards and holding up her hands to show they were empty, "you and I are overdue a conversation, away from the prying ears of Bobby, and Sam, and Castiel."

"The only conversation we're having is the one where you take me back to the US right now," he demanded.

She ignored him, and continued speaking. "Despite what you appear to believe, I am not a child."

"Yeah? Well you sure as hell act like one, at times."

"Takes one to know one," she countered.

"Well... fine," he huffed. "So I like cartoons and comics and hamburgers. Maybe inside, I'm really just a big child, but at least I'm not irresponsible."

"You are trying to claim that you're not at all irresponsible?" she asked, one corner of her mouth pulling back into a smile. "You can't lie to the Eyes of Heaven, Dean. Reckless bravado is practically your middle name. Your first instinct is to _react_ on instinct. When in doubt, you fire a gun and hope for the best. And what has it got you so far? You sold your soul to a demon. Are you telling me that was an act of _responsibility?_"

"Yes, I am," he said, and his usual stubborn look appeared on his face. "Responsibility to my _brother_. To my _family_. I know that that's like, even if you don't."

"This is not about me," she countered. "One familial mess at a time, Dean. And right now, you have a clean-up on aisle Bobby. Or have you forgotten that he almost died trying to save _you_? That he is in that chair _because of you_?"

"Of course I haven't forgotten," he hissed. "It's the first thing I think when I wake up in the mornings, and the last thing on my mind when I go to bed at night. Bobby is my responsibility. I have to take care of him and protect him, as he protected me. And if that means he sits safe on the sidelines, he sits safe on the sidelines."

"Until what? He dies of old age, or out of sheer frustration, puts a bullet into his head? He is not a child, Dean. He is a grown man with his own life and his own ideas. I can tell you that he is going to go off doing whatever he wants whether you like it or not, and nothing you can say or do will stop him. Now you can let him go off on his own, and possibly risk his neck every time he leaves for a hunt, or you can accept that if I am with him, he will be safer. That I can watch over him and help him out of any situations that get too dangerous for him to be in."

"I... I can't lose him, Ava," he said, his face softening a fraction, hazel eyes imploring her to understand. "Next to Sam, Bobby's the only family I got left. He's like a father to me. Closer than a father, even. Every time I see him in that chair, it reminds me of how badly I screwed up. If I'd just been quicker off the mark, if I'd just suspected a demon was inside him, I could have exorcised it. There would have been no need for him to almost die."

"I'm going to tell you a painful truth, Dean," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder. "You cannot save everything. But at the same time, the entire world is not yours to save. I see that the weight of every soul lost weighs heavily on you, and that you bear the burden of it for every mistake you have made, every act of violence you have committed. But sooner or later, those souls are going to weigh you down so much that you won't even be able to stand, and that's when the demons will truly have you in their grasp.

"I know that you feel like you are alone, but you are not. You have friends and family who care for you. And yes, people are going to die. Good people. But they're not going to die for you; they are going to die for themselves, for their own freedom, and for the freedom of others. To believe that they do it all for you merely makes a mockery of who and what they were. So learn to let go. Let others take on some of that burden. Don't try to carry the whole world on your shoulders; not even an angel can do that."

She could see the unshed tears in Dean's eyes, and it broke her heart to witness them. This, she realised, was empathy. But why was she feeling it? Was she broken?

"I couldn't save my father," he said, before she could think more on her own existential issues. "But I can save Bobby."

"Or Bobby can save himself." She shook her head, and released his shoulder. It made the aching in her heart lessen, a little. "I know you don't like me, or trust me. You didn't ask for me to be in your life, and you don't want me here. I can see that. But I _am_ here. That is something you're just going to have to accept. Despite what Castiel has told you, I am not a bad person, Dean. I am not a bad angel. I was always obedient, always polite. My only crime is that I care too much for my Father's creations. I disobeyed to protect the Earth, to protect humanity, and I was cast out because of it. If you want to damn me for that, go ahead. But if there was a way of proving to you that I am honest, and that I truly do wish to help you, I would do it."

"You want to prove it?" he asked. "Fine. Take an oath of obedience to me."

"I can't," she said, meeting his eyes squarely. "An angel can only swear one oath at a time. Ask Castiel, if you don't believe me."

"Oh I intend to. Now, take me back."

"As, you wish." She moved to touch his shoulder, then stopped for one last word. "I know that what I have said here today probably changes nothing. I know you'll probably go on disliking me and not trusting me. I can't say that I blame you, after everything angels have done to you. But I can promise that when this apocalypse is over, if Bobby frees me from my oath, you will never see me again. Until then we are allies, whether either of us likes it or not. Do with that as you will."

She touched his shoulder, and teleported both of them back to the house.

o - o - o - o - o

The Impala roared up the unpaved dirt-path driveway, through the path that had been left between cars good only for scrap metal, Whitesnake's _Here I Go Again_ blurring out of the stereo at full volume. Sam had been suffering a headache for the past twenty miles, brought on by the midday heat and the insanely loud rock music Dean was so fond of playing, but he hadn't bothered mentioning it to his older brother. Dean had a habit of overreacting when Sam even caught a sniffle, paranoid that it was a sign of demonic forces at work in 'little Sammy'. Sometimes, Dean seemed to forget that Sam wasn't little anymore, and Sam had gotten used to keeping any aches and pains he suffered to himself, if only to stall the Spanish Inquisition.

Outside Bobby's house, Dean brought the car to a halt and pulled on the hand-brake. When he turned off the ignition the music finally died away, and Sam felt the tension in his head easing off. It didn't disappear completely, but the pain was a little more manageable now. All he needed to get him back into fighting form was a few hours of sleep, preferably in a dark room. Unfortunately, there was still half of the day left to go.

"Feels good to be back, doesn't it?" Dean asked.

"You're glad to be back at Bobby's?" Sam replied, confused. His brother's statement was verging on incredulous. "You know he's going to put us on research the moment he sees us, right?"

"Yeah, I know, but it's a few days to rest up and restock ammo. No more dodgy motel rooms, no having to worry about hex bags under our beds, no waiting until the next batch of random crazy starts."

Sam opened his mouth to speak, and then stopped to listen to a sound in the air. "Speaking of random crazy," he said, "is it just me, or can you hear... a flute?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "I thought something seemed... off. Since when does Bobby listen to flute music?"

Sam shrugged, and when Dean turned to enter the house, Sam followed him. When they opened the door, the music grew louder. Sam didn't recognise the piece—instrumental music was hardly his speciality—but it was a beautiful song, obviously well-recorded, because he could hear no static in the background.

He stepped past Dean and walked into Bobby's living room, then stopped in his tracks. There were musical instruments everywhere. A harp in the corner of the room, a trumpet, a saxophone and a violin on stands beside the fire, two steel-pan drums where the coffee table normally lived, and a dozen more brass, woodwind and percussion instruments that he didn't even recognise. Beside the window, Ava was sitting upright on a stool, her hands holding a flute to her lips. Her eyes were closed, and her fingers jumped gracefully across the keys.

"Uh... hello, Ava," he said.

She opened her eyes and stopped playing, giving him a smile that made her face shine radiantly. At moments like that, he saw only the vessel, Katie, and he was able to forget that there was something inside her which didn't truly belong.

"Hello, Sam," she replied. "I don't suppose you brought icecream back from your travels?"

And just like that, the vessel was gone, and it was an angel looking at him from behind the cornflower-blue eyes.

"Err... no, it was too hot to bring a tub, it would have melted," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Where's Bobby?"

"I'm here," came the gruff voice of the old hunter. He wheeled himself into the room, and looked just terrible. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, his hair was ruffled beneath his cap, and there were a pair of ear muffs around his neck. "Where's idjit number two?" he demanded.

"Right here," said Dean, stepping out from behind Sam. "Geez, Bobby, you look like crap. Did somebody die?" Dean's face suddenly went stony. "Who died?"

"Nobody died," Bobby scowled.

"Bobby has been irritable for days," Avariel said helpfully. "I have been trying to soothe his latent anger with music, but so far it does not seem to be working. I think William Congreve was employing artistic licence when he said '_Music hath charms to soothe a savage breast, to soften rocks or bend a knotted oak.'_"

"Maybe you should try guitar," Dean suggested. "I don't see one of them here."

"I tried," Ava said, frowning momentarily, her blue eyes troubled. She held up her left hand, and waggled her fingers. "Unfortunately, Katie's fingers are not long enough to effectively apply equal pressure across the neck of the instrument."

"So you can actually play all these?" Sam asked, gesturing at the rest of the instruments. It was a very impressive assortment.

"Yes. Music was actually very easy to learn, because what musical notes actually reduce down to are regular mathematical wavelengths which oscillate—"

She stopped talking as Dean lifted his hand.

"We don't need to know about that."

"Too much detail?" she asked. Dean nodded.

"I guess you were right about your affinity for music," Sam said. "Can you sing, too?"

"Technically, yes," she said.

Sam waited for a moment for elaboration, and then Dean spoke up.

"That would be 'not enough detail'."

"I am forbidden from speaking of it."

Both brothers turned to look at Bobby.

"You _forbade_ her from discussing singing?" Dean asked.

"Ava," said Bobby, ignoring Dean and turning to face the angel. "I'd like you to have a day off. For the next twenty-four hours, I want you to go and save people who need saving. Whilst you're gone, you're not to Watch me, this house, or anybody in it. Come back at this time tomorrow. Do you understand?"

To Sam, Ava looked shocked by the command. Her eyes went wider... somehow, sadder.

"You're sending me away?" she asked. "Have I displeased you?"

"No, no, not at all. I just think we both need a break, and I want you to put your skills to better use. Now that Sam and Dean are back, the boys won't mind keeping me company for a day. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Very well," she said, though she still looked troubled. She handed her flute over to Sam, and then teleported.

Bobby let out a deep sigh which sounded almost like relief.

"Are you nuts?" Dean asked the older man. "You just sent Ava off to do her own thing for a full day."

"Don't worry," Bobby said. "She can't exorcise demons by touch, ghosts scare her, and she'd not keen on crowds. How much damage can she do?"

"It's not damage she might do that I'm worried about, it's damage done to her."

"Wait," Sam said, thoroughly confused by his brother. Which was business as usual, really. "I thought you didn't like her? Or trust her?"

"I don't, but that doesn't mean I want to see her killed," Dean countered. "She's had a body for all of... what, a month? She has the social skills, the common sense, and the naïveté of a six year old child. How long do you think she's going to last out there?"

"Dean," Bobby said, shaking his head at Dean's words, "that's just what _you_ see. I know, Ava has a strange sort of wide-eyed innocence about her, but that's just a very small aspect of what she is. Trust me, I've spent a lot more time with her than you have. She's been watching the Earth for a long time. She has a pretty good idea of how it works, and she knows enough to get herself out of trouble. But I wanted to talk to you boys alone, and for that, I needed her gone and not watching."

"What's all this about, Bobby?" Sam asked him. If he had sent Ava away for a day, just to talk to them, then it must be something serious.

"But before you answer that," Dean said, and Sam recognised the wicked gleam in his brother's eyes, "why'd you forbid her from talking about singing?"

"None of your damn business."

"It is if you want us to talk. I _could_ just go for pizza. In Missouri. I should get back for about this time tomorrow."

"You let her sing, didn't you?" Sam guessed, and Bobby rolled his eyes. "What'd she sing?"

"Amazing Grace," he replied uncomfortably, as if the answer was being physically dragged out of him.

"What was it like?"

"Like she was reaching into my soul and pulling up every memory of sadness and loss and desperate hope I've ever had, and forcing me to relive them all over again, with the promise that there may be some sort of salvation at the end of all the suffering. Nothing on Earth should be able to sing like that."

"You cried, didn't you?" Dean grinned.

"I'll make _you_ cry, if you don't shut your damn trap," Bobby threatened.

"So what'd you want to talk about?" Sam asked, changing the subject before Dean had to live through the humiliation of having his ass kicked by a man in a wheelchair.

"Ava," Bobby said. He wheeled himself back into the study. "Look, I promised you boys that I'd stay here, that we'd both stay here, while you went out on your last hunt. I've just been researching, and handling the phones."

"But..?" Sam prompted him.

"But I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to keep Ava here. She's like a one-angel hurricane of desire to help people. And she doesn't sleep. Ever. You don't know what it's like, to have somebody around you constantly, asking you questions, trying to be helpful, trying to understand, watching you every minute of every day."

"Oh yeah, I definitely wouldn't know what that's like," Sam said, with a pointed look at his brother.

"I don't watch you every minute of every day," Dean responded. "I usually get at least four hours' sleep a night."

"I don't understand, Bobby," Sam continued. "She's sworn an oath of obedience to you. Can't you just... tell her to be quiet?"

"Tried it. A few days ago, I told her to sit down, shut up, do nothing and Watch for anything useful happening in the world."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Dean said.

"She sat there for six hours, didn't move a single hair, didn't even blink... just staring at me. So I went to bed to read for a while, and sorta... forgot to tell her she could move again. The next morning, she was still in exactly the same position I'd left her in, and when I finally remembered that I had to tell her to talk again, she insisted on spending the next two hours recounting every crime and killing she had been forced to witness because my most recent order of "sit and do nothing" overwrote my previous order of "go and help people who need it". Then she gave me sad-eyes for the rest of the day."

"So... you gave her a music shop?" Sam asked, glancing down at the flute in his hand. He put it down on the desk.

"I suggested she explore what it meant to be human," Bobby said. "At first she painted, which was all good and quiet, if a bit messy. Then came the singing. After that, I told her to stick with instruments. Yesterday she had a damn piano in here, and I was only just in time to stop her from bringing a church organ in too. I'm too old for baby-sitting, boys, and baby-sitting Ava is like watching over a ten-thousand year old child that could torch your entire house with a snap of its fingers if it chose."

"Whaddya wanna do with her, then?" Dean asked.

"Well, I'm considering this twenty-four hour period a sort of... trial run," Bobby replied.

"Trial run for _what_?"

"If she gets by alright without any problems, I'm going to let her go."

"You're going to... let her go?" Dean reiterated. He sounded like he couldn't believe his ears, and Sam understood how he felt. Ava was not only a source of potentially infinite knowledge, but she was also obedient to Bobby. She might not have the strength of a full angel, but she could still prove a formidable weapon in the fight against the apocalypse.

"You heard me," Bobby said. "When it comes right down to it, she's more of a hindrance than a help to me here. She's already told me everything she knows about Lucifer and the apocalypse, and it's barely more than what Cas has already told us. Instead of sitting here and distracting me, she could be out there, looking for answers and saving lives. I don't intend to release her from her oath of obedience, but I do intend to relax the rules a little. If she manages the next twenty-four hours with no problems, I'll tell her that she's free to go and make her own way in the world, as long as she still makes herself available for the big show-down."

"This is a phenomenally bad idea," Dean said, rubbing one hand over his face.

"Well alright, I'll just order her to travel with you and Sam, and stay with you forever," Bobby said. "Give you a taste of what it's like."

There was a moment of silence whilst that sunk in. If Sam was honest with himself, he liked Ava. He couldn't put his finger on why. Perhaps it was the vessel, Katie; she was a beautiful girl, no doubt. Or perhaps it was because Ava just seemed so open and honest. He wouldn't have minded spending more time with her, even helping her to learn more about humanity now that she literally had a hands-on view of it. But he got the feeling that Ava would need to be a full-time commitment, and he wasn't sure the responsibility was what he and Dean needed right now.

"I'm not asking your permission, Dean," Bobby continued. "I've already made up my mind, and it's what's going to happen tomorrow, or as soon as I think she's ready to be on her own."

Dean held up his hands in defeat. "Hey, like you said, it's your decision. I just hope you're not making a terrible mistake."

"This isn't a decision I've come to lightly," Bobby assured him. "I've been thinking about it for days, and I believe it's the correct thing to do."

"Okay," Dean said.

"Glad we've got that sorted. Now, you two go and get cleaned up from your hunt, then come and help me do some—"

"Research," both Winchesters finished for him.

"And don't dawdle," Bobby growled.

Sam followed his brother out of the house and down the steps to the Impala, trying to work out what had just happened. One minute, Dean had been dead against Ava going off on her own, and the next minute he was backing down just because Bobby had insisted. Dean never backed down, from anyone. Not even the angels could cow him into submission.

"Dean, are you really fine with Bobby letting Ava go?" he asked. "A minute ago, you were worried about what might happen to her if she's on her own."

"Yeah," Dean said, opening the trunk of the car and handing a bag of weapons to Sam, "but when it comes right down to it, if Ava's not here, then she can't go dragging Bobby off to hunt every time our backs are turned. It gives me one less thing to worry about. Bobby's safety is far more important to me than hers."

"Harsh, but fair, I suppose," Sam replied. He recalled the first time he had seen Ava, standing defiant and blood-covered in the warehouse where Zachariah had trapped them, and smiled at the memory. "Y'know, I've kinda enjoyed having her around."

"Of course you have," Dean said with an amused snort, "she's hot. Or the vessel is. Whatever."

"I don't just mean because of that." At one time, Sam would have blushed at the thought of spending more time with an attractive woman, but he'd done a lot since then, and seen even more, and pretty girls were no longer something he got flustered or nervous over. "Just having her around, it's felt a bit like..."

"Like..?" Dean prompted.

"I dunno. Like she belongs here? There's a sort of... familiarity about her."

"Yeah, 'cos she's been _stalking us_ for the past few months," Dean reminded him.

"It's more than that," Sam insisted. "I just get a good vibe from her. Like she really wants to help us."

"Is that the same vibe you got from Ruby, by any chance?"

Sam shook his head. Dean was going to hold Ruby over him for the rest of his life, as an example of why his judgement couldn't be trusted when it came to women. But the truth was, Ruby had been such a good actress that not even other demons had known that she was secretly aiding Lilith in breaking the Seals to free Lucifer from his cage. For two years Ruby had been pulling Sam's strings, and despite Dean's frequent and vocal objections, Sam had danced like an obedient puppet. It wouldn't happen again. He was done making deals with demons, and through with trusting them. Ava, however, was not a demon, and he did trust her.

"You don't need to keep reminding me of my failures," he told his older brother. "There's not a day goes by when I don't think about how badly I've screwed up. The world might end, because of me. Millions of people might die, because of me. Demons currently walk the Earth in unwilling hosts, because of me. Because I wasn't strong enough to say no, because I was bent on revenge, and because I thought I was doing the right thing. So yeah, I know that you don't trust my judgement. You might never trust it again. But you don't need to keep dragging up my mistakes and rubbing my face in them."

"I'm sorry, Sammy," Dean said, and Sam could tell he genuinely _was_ sorry. "I didn't mean to make you feel like crap."

"It's alright," Sam relented. The tension between them dissipated, but it didn't evaporate completely.

"C'mon." Dean hefted a bag out of the trunk, and turned to the house. "Let's dump our stuff and give Bobby a hand."

Sam nodded at his brother's suggestion. Suddenly, a day of doing some quiet research didn't sound like such a bad idea.

o - o - o - o - o

For the first time in over a week, there was peace and quiet in the house. Bobby didn't have to worry about Ava coming up with some crazy new scheme for sampling what humanity had to offer. He didn't have to look up to find her practically hovering over him, questioning him on what he was doing every five minutes. And he could take a piss without being paranoid about whether she was Watching. If he didn't know better, he'd guess that she was doing it all simply to drive him crazy, so that he would suggest letting her go and everybody would think it was his idea. But she wasn't that cunning; not yet. And there was genuine curiosity in her questions.

Were it not for the looming apocalypse, he would have been happy enough to let her stay, to accompany her on hunting trips, to try and teach her about humanity. Although she had Watched the Earth for thousands upon thousands of years, and she seemed to understand a lot about humanity, there were things which perplexed her; little things that a human didn't really have to think about. She could describe perfectly how microwaves worked to heat up an item of food, and could draw complex diagrams and write out mathematical equations that possessed more letters than they did numbers to explain it all, but on her own she couldn't figure out how to actually work a microwave machine. When he'd asked her to reheat him something he'd cooked earlier, it had taken her almost fifteen minutes of trying to make the microwave work before she'd finally called him in and asked him to demonstrate it. It was only later he'd discovered that she didn't need the microwave at all; possessing some limited form of pyrokinesis, she was capable of heating food up with a mere wave of her hand. Or, as she described it, "imparting energy to the particles of the food item in a controlled manner which results in the excitation of the molecules in order to bring about an evenly spread endothermic reaction for the purpose of heating a meal."

There was a sudden _blip_ noise from the laptop on his desk, and he turned the computer around to open up one of the applications.

"What's that, Bobby?" Sam asked, from his seat on the sofa.

"An alarm, ya idjit," he said, frowning at what was appearing on his screen.

Dean looked up from beside Sam. "For what?"

"One of Ash's old programs. I've got a direct feed from METEOSAT, and I set it up to alert me if any anomalous weather patterns occurred."

"And... you have an anomaly?" Sam asked.

Bobby nodded, and both boys joined him behind the desk. Anomalous weather patterns, particularly when localised, were a good demonic portent, an indication of currently occurring, or soon to be occurring, demon activity. Usually he only tracked the weather in the US, because that was where most of the action was taking place, but he liked to keep the METEOSAT system of weather satellites monitored, to help give a bigger picture.

"Is that _Japan_?" Sam asked, pointing to an area of the map east of where a weather front had suddenly kicked up a storm.

"Yep," Bobby confirmed. "But look at where that weather front is; out in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. I doubt there's even any islands out there."

"So why the sudden surge in demonic activity in the middle of an ocean?"

"It's also a bit far out of our range, isn't it?" Dean asked. "I mean, for the most part, they've been pretty much confining themselves to America. It's where their precious hell-gate is, after all."

"Maybe they found something of interest out there," Bobby said with a shrug. "Or maybe it's a new offensive."

"I have an idea," said Dean. He took out his cellphone and dialled a number. "Hey Cas, it's me. Listen, we're at Bobby's, checking out one of the weather satellites, and getting some possible signs of demon activity out in the Pacific Ocean, not far from Japan. Could you check it out, and let us know if it's anything we need to be worried about? Co-ordinates? Yeah, about thirty-five north, a hundred and sixty east. Thanks, see you soon."

"You know you're probably sending him out there for nothing, right?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, but I'd rather be safe than sorry," Dean replied with a casual shrug. "Who knows, maybe he'll even find God out there."

"I take it he hasn't had any luck so far?" Bobby asked. Castiel had been searching for his Father for several months, hoping he could appeal to God to return to Heaven and fix the mess that Lucifer and Michael were making of the world.

"Do you see God anywhere?" Dean asked sarcastically.

Bobby did not get chance to reply to Dean's smart-alec comment. Castiel appeared in the room, looking particularly windswept. His dark hair was dishevelled, and the tie of his suit had been swept over his shoulder.

"So... it's windy out there, huh?" Dean asked, grinning at the angel's appearance.

"The velocity of the wind is exceeding one hundred and sixty kilometres per hour, and increasing exponentially," Castiel confirmed.

"How many demons?" Sam asked.

"None. It is Avariel, using 'her' natural abilities to create an artificial storm."

Bobby gave a silent mental groan. This conversation, he suspected, was not going to end well.

"What's she doing that for?" he asked.

"'She' appears to be using the storm in an attempt to capsize a boat full of people."

"Why?" Dean demanded.

"I don't know," Cas replied. "I didn't ask."

"Well do you think maybe you should have?"

"I did warn you several weeks ago that the grigori are dangerous," the angel pointed out.

Bobby wheeled his chair forward before this familiar argument could restart. Right now there was a boat full of people in danger, and he needed to deal with the situation before it could escalate.

"Cas, could you go and stop Avariel, and bring her here?" he asked.

"In theory, yes, but 'she' is looking particularly vengeful. She would probably try to resist me. It would be faster for you to summon her here."

"But I told her to go away for twenty-four hours, and stop Watching me until she returns."

"She is still bound to obey you," Cas said, in his finest _'I need to be patient when explaining angel business to humans'_ tone. "If you summon her, she must come, regardless of where she is or what she is doing."

"Alright," Bobby said. He hadn't realised the oath of obedience extended that far, but it was useful to know. "Avariel, I am ordering you to get back to the house right now."

She appeared in a gust of wind which blew papers all over the room, her hair just as messy as Castiel's. She took a deep breath as soon as she arrived, and whirled to face Bobby.

"But it hasn't been twenty-four hours yet!" she objected immediately. "Please, let me return."

"Why are you trying to capsize a boat?" he asked, trying his hardest to keep the scowl from his face. She would happily argue with Dean or Cas, and seemed to delight in angering them at times, but whenever she thought Bobby was angry with her, she became withdrawn and reticent, almost as if she was afraid of making him angry.

"I'm not," she replied, and he knew she was telling the truth. She couldn't lie to him. "It is a whaling vessel, and they are indiscriminately killing whales."

"So you work for friggin' Greenpeace now?" Dean demanded.

"No. But I heard the whales' cry for help. It is a pod of females, some of them mothers with young calves. If the mothers are killed, the calves will die too. I wasn't trying to damage the boat, I merely wanted to use the storm to give the whales a chance to escape."

"Is this really the best use of your time and powers?" Bobby asked her.

In response, she reached out and touched her fingers to his forehead, and he was suddenly transported to a scene of death. _He was beneath the waves, and could taste blood on the ocean currents. The screams of a dying whale echoed through the water, singing of fear and pain, whilst from above flashes of cold silver plunged into the underwater realm, slicing flesh wherever they fell. Other whales rallied around the dying one, and its calf nuzzled it, to try and elicit a response..._

When the fingers were removed from his forehead he was pulled out of that world, out of that terrible scene of destruction, and found himself back in his wheelchair, in his house. Avariel was looking down at him, her blue eyes pleading with him, begging him to understand.

"Fine, go. Just don't kill anybody," he said, and she disappeared. Bobby shivered and licked his lips, trying to get the taste of blood out of his mouth.

"What was that?" Dean asked. He looked concerned, and rightly so.

"Nothing," he said, shaking his head and asking the boy to drop it. "She just showed me what she saw and felt when she heard the whales' cry for help."

"Oh, is that all?"

"Bobby," Sam said, "do you really think it was a good idea to send her back there?"

"Probably not. But I'll be damned if I know what is or is not a good idea anymore."

He closed his eyes, and an echo of the death scene flickered across his mind. He'd never been squeamish in the past; even before he'd hunted monsters, he'd hunted animals. But the kills were usually fast and clean, with a minimum amount of suffering. Anything that didn't die immediately from a gunshot wound died soon after, from having its throat slit. It wasn't possible to slit a whale's throat, though. The best you could do was harpoon it, over and over again. Then you waited for it to come up for air, and harpooned it again. A whale died slowly, of blood loss or drowning, suffering terrible agony.

Avariel had felt the pain of the dying whale, and the fear of the rest of the pod. She'd heard the cries for help as clearly as if they had been spoken aloud by a human. When she'd said she could communicate with animals, she hadn't just been talking about language communication, but empathy; thought, memory and emotion. Until now, she'd never had a body before. She'd witnessed pain and suffering, but she hadn't understood it, hadn't experienced it. Now she understood, and when she had transferred the image of the whales to his mind, he had sensed how much it had affected her.

"Just let it go, boys," he said. "Back to the books."

The brothers offered no further arguments, and returned to their research stations, otherwise known as the sofa. Castiel gave Bobby a long, pointed look, before teleporting away. Bobby turned his attention back to METEOSAT, watching the brewing storm. He wished he could see what was happening out there, but these particular satellites were blind to the whaling ship, only capable of picking up weather-related effects such as wind speed, temperature and air pressure. He would have to wait for Ava to return, to find out exactly what was happening.

It didn't take more than twenty minutes for the storm to pass, but Ava didn't return immediately. For two hours Bobby sat watching the satellite, his eyes peeled for further signs of anomalous weather. There were no further storms—at least, no further _unnatural_ storms—and when he realised that the time had elapsed on Ava's twenty-four hour trial period, he left the Winchesters to their research and started to look for the angel.

She wasn't in the spare room, nor the bathroom, nor the kitchen, so he left the house and wheeled himself outside, looking amongst the scrap vehicles on his land. She _had_ to be somewhere around here; if she failed to return, she would have died, having broken the oath of obedience. And as unhappy as the whales had made her feel, he didn't think she was ready to die just yet. She still wanted to stop the apocalypse, after all.

At last he found her, sitting atop a pile of cars and looking out towards the horizon. She no longer looked as if she'd been tossed around by a storm, and she didn't react when he approached the car pile. He looked up for a moment, at her posture, her expression, the look in her eyes, and decided that letting her go was probably the best thing he could do right now. He just wasn't equipped to deal with Ava on a daily basis, and keeping her confined to the house, with nothing to do, wasn't fair to her.

"Ava," he called up, "could you come down here? I'd like to talk to you."

She disappeared, and reappeared almost in the same instant on the hood of a car at ground level. Uncrossing her legs, she slid down the bonnet and landed on her feet, then settled back to lean against the damaged chassis.

"What happened with the whaling ship?" he asked, when she offered no words.

"I damaged some of the equipment of the ship, a little," she admitted without any guilt whatsoever. "I instructed the whales on how to escape. Then I appeared on the deck of the ship and told the whalers that I am an angel of the Lord, and that if they continue to hunt whales they will suffer divine retribution. I believe they were convinced. I was unable, however, to save the dying whale."

"Is this going to happen every time you see an animal being killed?"

She shook her head, folding her arms across her chest. "I having nothing against people hunting animals, ordinarily. There are tribes of people living in the extreme norths of the Earth who require whale meat and blubber and oil to survive, but they hunt only a couple of times a year, and their equipment is not as sophisticated. The whales stand a chance of surviving. But that ship today... the whalers did not need the whale to survive. They live in a place where there are many different things to eat, and many different ways of staying warm, and winter is not deadly to the unprepared. They were whaling for their own profit.

"There is a natural order to things, Bobby. Predators hunt prey for food. They do not hunt their prey to extinction; not even monsters do that. I hadn't realised before today, how much we angels value order. We strive to maintain order, to maintain the series of checks and balances which keep the world turning. In many ways, humanity is in opposition to order. Your kind break rules. You wipe out entire species just because they are in your way. I find myself... conflicted."

"In what way?" he asked.

"I find chaos abhorrent. It goes against everything that I am, everything that my Father made me. All angels need rules to follow. And yet... at the same time... I find the rules too restrictive. And worse, different people can interpret rules in different ways, bending them to their own whims, subverting them to follow a particular agenda. Even I am guilty of it. And despite my distaste for chaos, I cannot help but appreciate the chaos that is inherent within your species. My Father made you this way, and he asked us to love you for what you are. And so I see the goodness within the chaos of humanity; your works of creation, your art and music, your altruism and acts of kindness. But I also see the bad aspects, too; pettiness, cruelty, selfish acts and wanton destruction. Every single one of you carry the capacity for all of these traits, both light and dark, within you, and at any moment you can change from one to the other, or stay constantly between them. How do I know which humans are worth saving?"

"Ava," he said, rolling closer to her, "I can't give you the answers to your questions. I suspect you know that already. And you know you won't find answers in Heaven, otherwise you wouldn't have come here. The questions you're asking do not have clear-cut yes or no answers; they are questions that scholars spend an entire lifetime musing over, and not everybody ends up with an answer. The only way you're going to find answers to your questions is to go and experience as much as you can. Form your own opinions, make your own judgements, and hopefully find the answers yourself."

"It seems a very inconvenient way of getting answers," she said, with a sad smile. "It would be much easier if parents told their children everything they need to know."

"But kids will always think they know better. Just look at those two idjits," he said, pointing his thumb back at the house. "Besides, finding answers is part of human existence. If we were told everything we need to know, we wouldn't have reason to experience it ourselves."

"There is more to being human than I had initially thought," she admitted. "I've spent thousands of years Watching, and still I feel as if I know so little."

"Then maybe it's time for you to learn more."

"I _am_ learning," she assured him. "You have taught me so much already."

"A man... or a woman... needs more than one teacher, though." He judged that the time was right to broach the subject of letting her go her own way. "Do you enjoy staying here, and having to obey my every command?"

She shrugged. "It is... helpful."

That was the last thing he had expected her to say, and he gestured for her to elaborate.

"As I said before, angels have a natural affinity for order. We appreciate rules, and are good at following them. As I no longer follow the rules of Heaven, it has been reassuring to have your orders to follow." She hesitated before continuing. "I know it has not been easy for you, having me here. I've asked a lot of questions, and my activities have not always been conducive to successful research. I will endeavour to be quieter, from now on."

"There's no need for that, Ava," he sighed. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted the responsibility of her oath in the first place. He was the last person in the world who ought to be influencing a young, impressionable mind, even if said mind _was_ a several-thousand years old near-omnipresent celestial being. Hell, he didn't even want the responsibility of a normal human kid, and he suspected that screwing up Ava could end _much_ worse than screwing up a kid. "The truth is, I've enjoyed having you around. Those times we went hunting... well, it made me feel useful again. But I can see that being here is holding you back. There is a lot of good you can do for the world, and a lot for you to learn. I will always be here for you, but I think it's time that you went and did your own thing."

"I suspected you might say something like this," she admitted. She stood up straight and faced his chair. "You have been good to me, Bobby. Were I human, I would want to have a father just like you. I think Sam and Dean take it for granted, sometimes, how lucky they are to have you in their lives."

"Well now you're just embarrassing me," he said, but Ava's words secretly warmed him inside.

"My apologies." She gave him a smile. "I have observed that many humans find expressions of gratitude and fondness to be socially awkward. I'll try to refrain in future. Now, tell me what you would like me to do next."

"Well... there's a whole world out there, for you to experience. A whole world of people to help. From now on, you can do whatever you choose, but my initial orders still stand. You are to keep your oath of obedience, you are not to harm or betray us in any way, and you must speak only the truth to me. As for everything else... it's your life now. You make the decisions. Come back whenever you like."

"You're not going to give me an order such as 'don't kill any humans'?" she queried.

"No. I'm going to leave such things to your conscience. The more I restrict you with rules, the less you'll learn."

"Very wise," she nodded. "I can see, now, that I made the right choice in swearing my oath of obedience to you. I will always come when you summon me, Bobby."

"Good to know."

"I am not going to say goodbye," she said. "Because this is not goodbye."

"Heh, that's fine with me," he agreed. It wasn't as if she was leaving forever; she could return any time she wished. He was rubbish at goodbyes, anyway.

She glanced at the house. "Would you pass on my non-goodbyes to Sam and Dean for me?"

"Of course." He held out his hand to her, and she took it, allowing him to shake it. "Good luck, Ava. Let me know if there's anything you need."

"And to you, Bobby. I will return if I find anything of use in our fight against the apocalypse. Take care of yourself."

She took a step back, and teleported, leaving only a brief gust of wind which blew up a few dust particles from the ground. For several minutes he continued to sit and look at the empty space where she had been, and wondered where she had just travelled to. Was she still in America, or was she on another continent completely? Would she use her newfound freedom to protect humanity from the world, or to protect the world from humanity? The answers, he suspected, would come with time. For now, he had an apocalypse to avert.

He wheeled himself back to the house.

_- o -_

_Author's Note: Here ends book one of Fallen. I hope you've enjoyed Avariel's introduction, and the information about the grigori in general. Book two has already been written, and I'll be publishing it in the New Year. Following a two week break, I'll be returning to my Friday publishing schedule on 22nd November with a brand new Deadpool story, which is a sequel to my previous Wolverine fic (No I In Team). I hope you'll join me then!_


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